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tIPlje KitietsfiDc ilttctature Attics 
 SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 BY 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 EDITED WITH NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL TIIURBER, eJu. 
 
 HEAD OF THE ENOLISH DKPAKTMENT IN THE 
 TECUMCAL UIGH SCHOOL OF XEWTON, MASS. 
 
 BOSTON NEW YORK AND CHICAGO 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
t 
 
 .^^ 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN. COMPANY 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 The text of this volume is used by permission of, and by 
 arrangement with, Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons, the author- 
 ized publishers of Irving's Works. 
 
 C.C1.A>!59517 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 Owing largely to the specifications of the College Entrance 
 Requirements, the Sketch-Book alone, of all Irving's work, 
 is read in the majority of secondary schools. Though a per- 
 fectly natural, this is an unfortunate condition of things. Un- 
 doubtedly the Sketch-Book is the most widely known, the 
 most literary "classic," of Irving's books; but for pupils 
 of high-school age the Tales of a Traveller, The Alhamhra^ 
 and portions of Bracebridge Hall are just as instructive, 
 much less difficult to understand, and vastly more interesting. 
 
 The editor has repeatedly used these selections from 
 Bracebridge Hall in the two lower classes of the high school 
 with pleasure and, he believes, with profit. Without doubt 
 they could be read in the upper grammar grades. They fur- 
 nish an admirable preparation for the study later of longer 
 and more difficult essays. Moreover, they are excellent mate- 
 rial to use in the teaching of composition, especially the con- 
 struction of unified, coherent paragraphs. They ought, as 
 well, to interest every normal boy and girl. 
 
 At the end of the book will be found explanatory notes; 
 also a few questions and lists of words for dictionary study. 
 Each individual teacher must of course decide whether it 
 is profitable to use these notes or to neglect them entirely. 
 They are intended only as suggestions. 
 
 Samuel Thurber, Jr. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Ibving's Place in American Literature . . . vii 
 
 What Critics have said of iRvrsa .... x 
 
 Important Dates in Irving's Life ..... xi 
 
 Irving's Principal Works xii 
 
 Selections from Bracebridge Hall 
 
 The Hall 1 
 
 The Busy Man 4 
 
 The Widow 9 
 
 An Old Soldier . 13 
 
 The Widow's Retinue 17 
 
 Ready-Money Jack 21 
 
 Story-Telling 27 
 
 ^. The Stout Gentleman 28 
 
 The Farm-House 41 
 
 Falconry 45 
 
 Hawking- 50 
 
 Fortune-Telling 57 
 
 Gipsies 62 
 
 Village Worthies 67 
 
 The Schoolmaster 69 
 
 The Rookery 75 
 
 May-Day 83 
 
 The Culprit 93 
 
 The Wedding 100 
 
 Explanatory Notes and Questions Ill 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 IRVING'S PLACE IN AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 On November 28, 1859, Washington Irving died at his 
 home on the Hudson River. Just a month later. Lord Macau- 
 lay, the eminent English essayist and historian, passed away 
 in London. Within a few weeks there appeared a short but 
 remarkable essay upon these two illustrious men. The au- 
 thor of this article, who preferred to call it "only a word in 
 testimony of respect," was no less a person than the novehst 
 Thackeray. "Two men," he wrote, "famous, admired, be- 
 loved, have just left us, the Goldsmith and the Gibbon of 
 our time. One (Irving) was the first ambassador whom the 
 New World of Letters sent to the Old." Better than any- 
 thing that has ever been written, these words describe the 
 place of Washington Irving in American literature. 
 
 For forty years after the War of Independence, the atti- 
 tude of English critics and English readers towards American 
 writers was either bluntly hostile, or cynical and sneering. 
 "There is no such thing as an American book," declared 
 the editor of Blackwood's Magazine. "To state publicly 
 that a book is written in the United States is to condemn 
 it before it has been read." Nor is it difficult to explain why 
 this prejudice existed. The times were too near the dark 
 years of '75 and '76 for men to forget. People were alive 
 who remembered the Battle of Saratoga and the surrender 
 of Cornwallis. Smouldering fires of hatred had been fanned 
 into flame again by the War of 1812. Therefore, after the 
 long years of struggle, when the colonies had become an 
 independent republic, there naturally existed in England 
 a national jealousy of the lost provinces, — a feeling which 
 developed into a general contempt and belittling of every- 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 thing American, — manners, customs, politics, laws, insti- 
 tutions, — and, of course, American books. 
 
 On the other hand, little or nothing had yet been pro- 
 duced in the New World of marked power or originality, — 
 certainly nothing had been written that has lasted. Without 
 a folk-lore, without a mass of legendary tales and traditions, 
 without an inheritance of poetic temperament, without even a 
 national sense, the first American authors turned helplessly to 
 England for their subject material and their inspirations. 
 They even went so far as to imitate deliberately the manner 
 and style of popular English writers of the previous genera- 
 tion. American literature was thus in 18'-20 in its extreme 
 infancy. Cooper had yet to publish his first novel. Though 
 Bryant had printed Thanatopsisy he was still an obscure 
 country lawyer among the hills of western Massachusetts. 
 Longfellow, Lowell, Whittier, and Hawthorne were boys in 
 their New England homes; Emerson was at Harvard; Poe 
 was attending school in Richmond. Even the classic auto- 
 biography of Franklin was still in manuscript, unknown 
 to the world. Except for the novels of Brockden Brown, the 
 poems of Freneau, and possibly the orations of Otis, Wash- 
 ington, Jefferson, and Hamilton, there was really no Amer- 
 ican literature until May of the year 1819, when Washington 
 Irving began to publish the Sketch-Book. 
 
 Irving's mission was to write to please his countrymen and 
 also all English-speaking people; to place higher, once for 
 all, the standard of American authorship ; to win the respect 
 and attention of prejudiced European readers; to convince 
 the whole world that the new republic was not wholly illiter- 
 ate or provincial; above everything, to bring English and 
 American readers — and thus all England and all America 
 — closer together in friendship, sympathy, and mutual con- 
 fidence. Such a high mission he undertook and fulfilled. 
 From America he went to England, the first ambassador 
 of letters from the New World to the Old, — where, by 
 his delightful and humorous essays, his winning manners, 
 his simplicity, his sympathy, his fairness, and his personal 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 charm, he won the hearts of the British people. Through 
 him, as through no other man,, American literature and 
 the American nation grew in dignity and in respect among 
 Englishmen. 
 
 To quote further from Thackeray, — "He came amongst 
 us bringing the kindest sympathy, the most artless, smiling 
 good-will. His new country (which some people here might 
 be disposed to regard rather superciliously) could send us, 
 as he showed in his own person, a gentleman, who, though 
 himself born in no very high sphere, was most finished, 
 polished, easy, witty, quiet; and, socially, the equal of the 
 most refined Europeans. If living's welcome in England was 
 a kind one, was it not also gratefully remembered ? If he ate 
 our salt, did he not pay us with a thankful heart ? Who can 
 calculate the amount of friendliness and good feeling for our 
 country which this writer's generous and untiring regard for 
 us disseminated in his own ? His books are read by millions 
 of his countrymen, whom he has taught to love England, 
 and why to love her. It would have been easy to speak other- 
 wise than he did : to inflame national rancors, which, at the 
 time when he first became known as a public writer, war had 
 just renewed : to cry down the old civilization at the expense 
 of the new : to point out our faults, arrogance, short-comings, 
 and give the republic to infer how much she was the parent 
 state's superior. There are writers enough in the United 
 States, honest and otherwise, who preach that kind of doc- 
 trine. But the good Irving, the peaceful, the friendly, had 
 no place for bitterness in his heart, and no scheme but kind- 
 ness. Received in England with extraordinary tenderness 
 and friendship (Scott, Southey, Byron, a hundred others 
 have borne witness to their liking for him), he was a messen- 
 ger of good-will and peace between his country and ours. 
 *See, friends!' he seems to say, 'these English are not so 
 wicked, rapacious, callous, proud, as you have been taught 
 to believe them. I went amongst them a humble man; won 
 my way by my pen; and, when known, found every hand 
 held out to me with kindliness and welcome. Scott is a great 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 man, you acknowledge. Did not Scott's King of England give 
 a gold medal to him, and another to me, your countryman, and 
 a stranger?'" 
 
 WHAT CRITICS HAVE SAID OF IRVING 
 
 "To a true poet-heart add the fun of Dick Steele, 
 
 Throw in all of Addison, minus the chill. 
 
 With the whole of that partnership's stock and good-will, 
 
 Mix well, and while stirring, hum o'er, as a spell. 
 
 The fine old English Gentleman, simmer it well. 
 
 Sweeten just to your own private liking, then strain. 
 
 That only the finest and clearest remain. 
 
 Let it stand out of doors till a soul it receives 
 
 From the warm lazy sun loitering down through green leaves. 
 
 And you '11 find a choice nature, not wholly deserving 
 
 A name either English or Yankee, — just Irving." 
 
 From A Fable for Critics, James Russell Lowell. 
 
 " When you see Tom Campbell, tell him, with my best love, 
 that I have to thank him for making me known to Mr. Wash- 
 ington Irving, who is one of the pleasantest acquaintances 
 I have made this many a day." — Sir Walter Scott, in 
 Lockhart's Life. 
 
 "Throughout his polished pages no thought shocks by its 
 extravagance, no word offends by vulgarity or affectation. 
 All is gay but guarded, — heedless, but sensitive of the small- 
 est blemish." — Edinburgh Review, 1829. 
 
 "He easily surpassed Charles Lamb in evenness of execu- 
 tion. Behind all that he did appeared his own serene, happy, 
 and well-balanced character." — C. F. Richardson. 
 
 "He never caught the restlessness of this century. . . . 
 There is no visible straining to attract attention. He seems 
 always writing from an internal calm. . . . To the last he 
 basked in the sun and radiated cheerfulness all about him. 
 . . . His writings induce to reflection, to quiet musing, to 
 tenderness for tradition; they amuse, they entertain, they 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 call a check to the feverishness of modern life." — Charles 
 Dudley Warner, Life of Irving. 
 
 ''It [the name of Irving] is the synonym of a sweet literary 
 grace and a harmless gayety of humor which retain their 
 charm in the midst of new tastes and among powerful rivals." 
 — George William Curtis. 
 
 "In our lighter literature he is without a rival as an artist. 
 He is equally happy in delineations of scenery and charac- 
 ter. His style is unrivalled in picturesque effect." — F. H. 
 Underwood. 
 
 " He is perhaps best as an essayist, and he will be perma- 
 nent for his charm and refinement; yet it must not be for- 
 gotten that he was practically the discoverer, for Americans 
 at least, of the effectiveness of the short story as a form of 
 art '♦ _ From The New International Encyclopaedia. 
 
 *' Irving is the prince of American humorists; his humor 
 is unhke that of any other writer. In reading the works of 
 other humorists, you are frequently conscious of a strained 
 effect; the author seems to be making an effort to be funny. 
 In Irving this rarely, if ever, appears. He seems to make us 
 laugh because he cannot help it; and, consequently, one may 
 read his lighter works again and again without any perception 
 of weakness or staleness." — Charles Dudley Warner. 
 
 " It is the genial coloring of his humorous conceptions, 
 not their mechanism, that wins our interest. He often makes 
 us smile, but seldom elicits a broad guffaw, — for his con- 
 ceptions are charged with a feeling softened by culture and 
 tempered by geniality." — D. J. Hill. 
 
 IMPORTANT DATES IN IRVING'S LIFE 
 
 1783, April 3 . Born in New York City, the youngest of 
 
 eleven children. 
 1789-1797 . . At school in New York City. 
 1799 Declines opportunity to enter Columbia, and 
 
 begins to study law. 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 1804-1806 . . Voyage to Europe for health. 
 
 1806 Admitted to the New York bar. 
 
 1807 Publishes his first essay. 
 
 1815 Second voyage to Europe. 
 
 1815-1820 . . In Great Britain; meets Sir Walter Scott; 
 travels; writes. 
 
 1820-1826 . . Travels on .the continent and in England. 
 
 1826-1829 . . In Spain. 
 
 1829-1831 . . Secretary of Legation in London. 
 
 1832 Returns to America after seventeen years 
 
 abroad; received with great popular ova- 
 tions. 
 
 1832 ..... Settles at *'Sunnyside," near Tarrytown-on- 
 the-Hudson. 
 
 1842-1846 . . Minister to Spain. 
 
 1859 Dies at Sunnyside, November 28, in his 
 
 seventy-sixth year. 
 
 IRVING'S PRINCIPAL WORKS 
 
 1807 Contributes essays, with his brothers, to Sal- 
 magundi, an imitation of the Spectator. 
 
 1809 A History of New York, by Diedrich Knicker- 
 bocker. " A charming mixture of history and 
 fiction, brimful of humor, and the most 
 entertaining account we have of Dutch 
 manners and customs in the early days of 
 New York." 
 
 1819 The Sketch-Book. The most popular and 
 
 probably the most lasting of Irving's works. 
 
 1822 ..... Bracebridge Hall. A continuation of The 
 Sketch-Book. Written in England. 
 
 1824 Tales of a Traveller. A volume of short stories 
 
 written while travelling in Europe. 
 
 1828 . ; . . . History of the Life and Times of Christopher 
 Columbus. 
 
 1829 A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada. In- 
 teresting, but of no historical value. 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 1831 Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions 
 
 of Columbus. 
 
 1832 TheAlhambra. Sometfmes called " The Span- 
 ish Sketch-Book." Written largely in Lon- 
 don after his residence in Spain. 
 
 1849 Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 1849-1850 . . Mahomet and his Successors, 
 
 1855-1859 . . Life of Washington. 
 
BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 THE HALL 
 
 The reader, if he has perused the volumes of the 
 Sketch-Booky will probably recollect something of the 
 Bracebridge family, with which I once passed a Christ- 
 mas. I am now on another visit at the Hall, having 
 been invited to a wedding which is shortly to take place. 
 The Squire's second son, Guy, a fine, spirited young 
 captain in the army, is about to be married to his 
 father's ward, the fair Julia Templeton. A gathering 
 of relations and friends has already commenced, to 
 celebrate the joyful occasion ; for the old gentleman is 
 an enemy to quiet, private weddings. "There is no- 
 thing," he says, "like launching a young couple gayly, 
 and cheering them from the shore ; a good outset is half 
 the voyage." 
 
 Before proceeding any farther, I would beg that the 
 Squire might not be confounded with that class of 
 hard-riding, fox-hunting gentlemen so often described, 
 and, in fact, so nearly extinct in England. I use this 
 rural title partly because it is his universal appellation 
 throughout the neighborhood, and partly because it 
 saves me the frequent repetition of his name, which is 
 one of those rough old English names at which French- 
 men exclaim in despair. 
 
 The Squire is, in fact, a lingering specimen of the 
 old English country gentleman; rusticated a little by 
 
2 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 living almost entirely on his estate, and something of a 
 humorist, as Englishmen are apt to become when they 
 have an opportunity of living in their own way. I like 
 his hobby passing well, however, which is, a bigoted 
 devotion to old English manners and customs ; it jumps 
 a little with my own humor, having as yet a lively and 
 unsated curiosity about the ancient and genuine char- 
 acteristics of my "fatherland." 
 
 There are some traits about the Squire's family, also, 
 which appear to me to be national. It is one of those 
 old aristocratical families, which, I believe, are peculiar 
 to England, and scarcely understood in other countries ; 
 that is to say, families of the ancient gentry, who, 
 though destitute of titled rank, maintain a high ances- 
 tral pride : who look down upon all nobility of recent 
 creation, and would consider it a sacrifice of dignity 
 to merge the venerable name of their house in a modern 
 title. 
 
 This feeling is very much fostered by the importance 
 which they enjoy on their hereditary domains. The 
 family mansion is an old manor-house, standing in a 
 retired and beautiful part of Yorkshire. Its inhabitants 
 have been always regarded, through the surrounding 
 country, as " the great ones of the earth" ; and the little 
 village near the Hall looks up to the Squire with almost 
 feudal homage. An old manor-house, and an old fam- 
 ily of this kind, are rarely to be met with at the present 
 day ; and it is probably the peculiar humor of the Squire 
 that has retained this secluded specimen of English 
 housekeeping in something like the genuine old style. 
 
 I am again quartered in the paneled chamber, in the 
 antique wing of the house. The prospect from my win- 
 dow, however, has quite a different aspect from that 
 
THE HALL 3 
 
 which it wore on my winter visit. Though early in the 
 month of April, yet a few warm, sunshiny days have 
 drawn forth the beauties of the spring, which, I think, 
 are always most captivating on their first opening. The 
 parterres of the old-fashioned garden are gay with 
 flowers ; and the gardener has brought out his exotics, 
 and placed them along the stone balustrades. The 
 trees are clothed with green buds and tender leaves. 
 When I throw open my jingling casement, I smell the 
 odor of mignonette, and hear the hum of the bees from 
 the flowers against the sunny wall, with the varied song 
 of the throstle, and the cheerful notes of the tuneful 
 little wren. 
 
 While sojourning in this strong-hold of old fashions, 
 it is my intention to make occasional sketches of the 
 scenes and characters before me. I would have it under- 
 stood, however, that I am not writing a novel, and have 
 nothing of intricate plot nor marvelous adventure to 
 promise the reader. The Hall of which I treat has, for 
 aught I know, neither trap-door, nor sliding-panel, nor 
 donjon-keep; and indeed appears to have no mystery 
 about it. The family is a worthy well-meaning family, 
 that, in all probability, will eat and drink, and go to 
 bed, and get up regularly, from one end of my work to 
 the other ; and the Squire is so kind-hearted that I see 
 no likelihood of his throwing any kind of distress in the 
 way of the approaching nuptials. In a word, I cannot 
 foresee a single extraordinary event that is likely to 
 occur in the whole term of my sojourn at the Hall. 
 
 I tell this honestly to the reader, lest, when he finds 
 me dallying along, through every-day English scenes, 
 he may hurry ahead, in hopes of meeting with some 
 marvelous adventure further on. I invite him, on the 
 
4 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 contrary, to ramble gently on with me, as he would 
 saunter out into the fields, stopping occasionally to 
 gather a flower, or listen to a bird, or admire a prospect, 
 without any anxiety to arrive at the end of his career. 
 Should I, however, in the course of my wanderings 
 about this old mansion, see or hear any thing curious, 
 that might serve to vary the monotony of this every- 
 day life, I shall not fail to report it for the reader's 
 entertainment. 
 
 THE BUSY MAN 
 
 By no one has my return to the Hall been more 
 heartily greeted than by Mr. Simon Bracebridge, or 
 Master Simon, as the Squire most commonly calls him. 
 I encountered him just as I entered the park, where he 
 was breaking a pointer, and he received me with all the 
 hospitable cordiality with which a man welcomes a 
 friend to another one's house. I have already intro- 
 duced him to the reader as a brisk old bachelor-looking 
 little man; the wit and superannuated beau of a large 
 family connection, and the Squire's factotum. I found 
 him, as usual, full of bustle; with a thousand petty 
 things to do, and persons to attend to, and in chirping 
 good-humor; for there are few happier beings than a 
 busy idler ; that is to say, a man who is eternally busy 
 about nothing. 
 
 I visited him, the morning after my arrival, in his 
 chamber, which is in a remote corner of the mansion, 
 as he says he likes to be to himself, and out of the way. 
 He has fitted it up in his own taste, so that it is a perfect 
 epitome of an old bachelor's notions of convenience 
 and arrangement. The furniture is made up of odd 
 
THE BUSY MAN 5 
 
 pieces from all parts of the house, chosen on account 
 of their suiting his notions, or fitting some corner of 
 his apartment ; and he is very eloquent in praise of an 
 ancient elbow-chair, from which he takes occasion to 
 digress into a censure on modern chairs, as having 
 degenerated from the dignity and comfort of high- 
 backed antiquity. 
 
 Adjoining to his room is a small cabinet, which he 
 calls his study. Here are some hanging shelves, of his 
 own construction, on which are several old works on 
 hawking, hunting, and farriery, and a collection or two 
 of poems and songs of the reign of Elizabeth, which 
 he studies out of compliment to the Squire; together 
 with the Novelist's Magazine, the Sporting Magazine, 
 the Racing Calendar, a volume or two of the Newgate 
 Calendar, a book of peerage, and another of heraldry. 
 
 His sporting-dresses hang on pegs in a small closet; 
 and about the walls of his apartment are hooks to hold 
 his fishing-tackle, whips, spurs, and a favorite fowling- 
 piece, curiously wrought and inlaid, which he inherits 
 from his grandfather. He has, also, a couple of old 
 single-keyed flutes, and a fiddle which he has repeatedly 
 patched and mended himself, affirming it to be a 
 veritable Cremona; though I have never heard him 
 extract a single note from it that was not enough to 
 make one's blood run cold. 
 
 From this little nest his fiddle will often be heard, in 
 the stillness of mid-day, drowsily sawing some long- 
 forgotten tune; for he prides himself on having a choice 
 collection of good old English music, and will scarcely 
 have any thing to do with modern composers. The 
 time, however, at which his musical powers are of 
 most use, is now and then of an evening, when he plays 
 
6 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 for the children to dance in the hall, and he passes 
 among them and the servants for a perfect Orpheus. 
 
 His chamber also bears evidence of his various avo- 
 cations : there are half-copied sheets of music ; designs 
 for needlework; sketches of landscapes, very indiffer- 
 ently executed; a camera lucida; a magic lantern, for 
 which he is endeavoring to paint glasses; in a word, 
 it is the cabinet of a man of many accomplishments, 
 who knows a little of every thing, and does nothing 
 well. 
 
 After I had spent some time in his apartment, ad- 
 miring the ingenuity of his small inventions, he took 
 me about the establishment, to visit the stables, dog- 
 kennel, and other dependencies, in which he appeared 
 like a general visiting the different quarters of his camp ; 
 as the Squire leaves the control of all these matters to 
 him, when he is at the Hall. He inquired into the state 
 of the horses; examined their feet; prescribed a drench 
 for one, and bleeding for another; and then took me 
 to look at his own horse, on the merits of which he 
 dwelt with great prolixity, and which, I noticed, had 
 the best stall in the stable. 
 
 After this I was taken to a new toy of his and the 
 Squire's, which he termed the falconry, where there 
 were several unhappy birds in durance, completing 
 their education. Among the number was a fine falcon, 
 which Master Simon had in especial training, and he 
 told me that he would show me, in a few days, some 
 rare sport of the good old-fashioned kind. In the course 
 of our round, I noticed that the grooms, gamekeeper, 
 whippers-in, and other retainers, seemed all to be on 
 somewhat of a familiar footing with Master Simon, 
 and fond of having a joke with him, though it was evi- 
 
THE BUSY MAN 7 
 
 dent they had great deference for his opinion in matters 
 relating to their functions. 
 
 There was one exception, however, in a testy old 
 huntsman, as hot as a pepper-corn ; a meagre, wiry old 
 fellow, in a threadbare velvet jockey-cap, and a pair 
 of leather breeches, that, from much wear, shone as 
 though they had been japanned. He was very contra- 
 dictory and pragmatical, and apt, as I thought, to differ 
 from Master Simon, now and then, out of mere cap- 
 tiousness. This was particularly the case with respect 
 to the treatment of the hawk, which the old man seemed 
 to have under his peculiar care, and, according to 
 Master Simon, was in a fair way to ruin : the latter had 
 a vast deal to say about casting, and imping, and gleam- 
 ing, and enseaming, and giving the hawk the rangle, 
 w^hich I saw was all heathen Greek to old Christy; but 
 he maintained his point notwithstanding, and seemed 
 to hold all this technical lore in utter disrespect. 
 
 I was surprised at the good humor with which 
 Master Simon bore his contradictions, till he explained 
 the matter to me afterwards. Old Christy is the most 
 ancient servant in the place, having lived among dogs 
 and horses the greater part of a century, and been in 
 the service of Mr. Bracebridge's father. He knows the 
 pedigree of every horse on the place, and has bestrode 
 the great-great-grandsires of most of them. He can 
 give a circumstantial detail of every fox-hunt for the 
 last sixty or seventy years, and has a history for every 
 stag's head about the house, and every hunting trophy 
 nailed to the door of the dog-kennel. 
 
 All the present race have grown up under his eye, and 
 humor him in his old age. He once attended the Squire 
 to Oxford, when he was student there, and enlightened 
 
8 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 the whole university with his hunting lore. All this is 
 enough to make the old man opinionated, since he finds, 
 on all these matters of first-rate importance, he knows 
 more than the rest of the world. Indeed, Master Simon 
 had been his pupil, and acknowledges that he derived 
 his first knowledge in hunting from the instructions 
 of Christy; and I much question whether the old man 
 does not still look upon him as rather a greenhorn. 
 
 On our return homewards, as we were crossing the 
 lawn in front of the house, we heard the porter's bell 
 ring at the lodge, and shortly afterwards, a kind of 
 cavalcade advanced slowly up the avenue. At sight of 
 it my companion paused, considered it for a moment, 
 and then, making a sudden exclamation, hurried away 
 to meet it. As it approached I discovered a fair, fresh- 
 looking elderly lady, dressed in an old-fashioned riding- 
 habit, with a broad-brimmed white beaver hat, such as 
 may be seen in Sir Joshua Reynolds's paintings. She 
 rode a sleek white pony, and was followed by a foot- 
 man in rich livery, mounted on an over-fed hunter. 
 At a little distance in the rear came an ancient cum- 
 brous chariot, drawn by two very corpulent horses, 
 driven by as corpulent a coachman, beside whom sat 
 a page dressed in a fanciful green livery. Inside of the 
 chariot was a starched prim personage, with a look 
 somewhat between a lady's companion and a lady's 
 maid, and two pampered curs, that showed their ugly 
 faces, and barked out of each window. 
 
 There was a general turning out of the garrison to 
 receive this new-comer. The Squire assisted her to 
 alight, and saluted her affectionately; the fair Julia 
 flew into her arms, and they embraced with the roman- 
 tic fervor of boarding-school friends : she was escorted 
 
THE WIDOW 9 
 
 into the house by JuHa's lover, towards whom she 
 showed distinguished favor ; - and a hne of the old 
 servants, who had collected in the Hall, bowed most 
 profoundly as she passed. 
 
 I observed that Master Simon was most assiduous 
 and devout in his attentions upon this old lady. He 
 walked by the side of her pony up the avenue; and, 
 while she was receiving the salutations of the rest of the 
 family, he took occasion to notice the fat coachman ; 
 to pat the sleek carriage horses, and, above all, to say 
 a civil word to my lady's gentlewoman, the prim, sour- 
 looking vestal in the chariot. 
 
 I had no more of his company for the rest of the 
 morning. He was swept off in the vortex that followed 
 in the wake of this lady. Once indeed he paused for 
 a moment, as he was hurrying on some errand of the 
 good lady's, to let me know that this was Lady Lilly- 
 craft, a sister of the Squire's, of large fortune, which 
 the captain would inherit, and that her estate lay in one 
 of the best sporting counties in all England. 
 
 THE WIDOW 
 
 Notwithstanding the whimsical parade made by 
 Lady Lilly craft on her arrival, she has none of the 
 petty stateliness that I had imagined ; but, on the con- 
 trary, a degree of nature, and simple-heartedness, if 
 I may use the phrase, that mingles well with her old- 
 fashioned manners and harmless ostentation. She 
 dresses in rich silks, with long waist; she rouges con- 
 siderably, and her hair, which is nearly white, is frizzed 
 out, and put up with pins. Her face is pitted with the 
 
10 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 small-pox, but the delicacy of her features shows that 
 she may once have been beautiful ; and she has a very 
 fair and well-shaped hand and arm, of which, if I mis- 
 take not, the good lady is still a little vain. 
 
 I have had the curiosity to gather a few particulars 
 concerning her. She was a great belle in town between 
 thirty and forty years since, and reigned for two sea- 
 sons with all the insolence of beauty, refusing several 
 excellent offers; when, unfortunately, she was robbed 
 of her charms and her lovers by an attack of the small- 
 pox. She retired immediately into the country, where 
 she some time after inherited an estate, and married 
 a baronet, a former admirer, whose passion had sud- 
 denly revived; "having," as he said, "always loved 
 her mind rather than her person." 
 
 The baronet did not enjoy her mind and fortune 
 above six months, and had scarcely grown very tired 
 of her, when he broke his neck in a fox-chase, and left 
 her free, rich, and disconsolate. She has remained on 
 her estate in the country ever since, and has never 
 shown any desire to return to town, and revisit the 
 scene of her early triumphs and fatal malady. All her 
 favorite recollections, however, revert to that short 
 period of her youthful beauty. She has no idea of town 
 but as it was at that time; and continually forgets that 
 the place and people must have changed materially 
 in the course of nearly half a century. She will often 
 speak of the toasts of those days as if still reigning; 
 and, until very recently, used to talk with delight of 
 the royal family, and the beauty of the young princes 
 and princesses. She cannot be brought to think of the 
 present king otherwise than as an elegant young man, 
 rather wild, but who danced a minuet divinely; and 
 
THE BUSY MAN 11 
 
 before he came to the crown, would often mention him 
 as the " sweet young prince." , 
 
 She talks also of the walks in Kensington Garden, 
 where the gentlemen appeared in gold-laced coats and 
 cocked hats, and the ladies in hoops, and swept so 
 proudly along the grassy avenues; and she thinks the 
 ladies let themselves sadly down in their dignity, when 
 they gave up cushioned head-dresses, and high-heeled 
 shoes. She has much to say too of the officers who were 
 in the train of her admirers; and speaks familiarly of 
 many wild young blades, who are now, perhaps, hob- 
 bling about watering-places with crutches and gouty 
 shoes. 
 
 Whether the taste the good lady had of matrimony 
 discouraged her or not, I cannot say; but though her 
 merits and her riches have attracted many suitors, she 
 has never been tempted to venture again into the happy 
 state. This is singular, too, for she seems of a most 
 soft and susceptible heart; is always talking of love 
 and connubial felicity, and is a great stickler for old- 
 fashioned gallantry, devoted attentions, and eternal 
 constancy, on the part of the gentlemen. She lives, 
 however, after her own taste. Her house, I am told, 
 must have been built and furnished about the time of 
 Sir Charles Grandison: every thing about it is some- 
 what formal and stately; but has been softened down 
 into a degree of voluptuousness, characteristic of an 
 old lady, very tender-hearted and romantic, and who 
 loves her ease. The cushions of the great arm-chairs, 
 and wide sofas, almost bury you when you sit down on 
 them. Flowers of the most rare and delicate kind are 
 placed about the rooms and on little japanned stands; 
 and sweet bags lie about the tables and mantelpieces. 
 
12 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 The house is full of pet dogs, Angola cats, and sing- 
 ing birds, who are as carefully waited upon as she is 
 herself. 
 
 She is dainty in her living, and a little of an epicure, 
 living on white meats, and little ladylike dishes, though 
 her servants have substantial old English fare, as their 
 looks bear witness. Indeed, they are so indulged, that 
 they are all spoiled ; and when they lose their present 
 place, they will be fit for no other. Her ladyship is one 
 of those easy-tempered beings that are always doomed 
 to be much liked, but ill served by their domestics, and 
 cheated by all the world. 
 
 Much of her time is past in reading novels, of which 
 she has a most extensive library, and a constant supply 
 from the publishers in town. Her erudition in this line 
 of literature is immense; she has kept pace with the' 
 press for half a century. Her mind is stuffed with love- 
 tales of all kinds, from the stately amours of the old 
 books of chivalry, down to the last blue-covered ro- 
 mance, reeking from the press; though she evidently 
 gives the preference to those that came out in the days 
 of her youth, and when she was first in love. She main- 
 tains that there are no novels written now-a-days equal 
 to Pamela and Sir Charles Grandison; and she places 
 the Castle of Otranto at the head of all romances. 
 
 She does a vast deal of good in her neighborhood, 
 and is imposed upon by every beggar in the county. 
 She is the benefactress of a village adjoining her es- 
 tate, and takes an especial interest in all its love affairs. 
 She knows of every courtship that is going on; every 
 lovelorn damsel is sure to find a patient listener and 
 a sage adviser in her ladyship. She takes great pains 
 to reconcile all love-quarrels, and should any faithless 
 
AN OLD SOLDIER 13 
 
 swain persist in his inconstancy, he is sure to draw 
 on himself the good lady's violent indignation. 
 
 I have learned these particulars partly from Frank 
 Bracebridge, and partly from Master Simon. I am 
 now able to account for the assiduous attention of the 
 latter to her ladyship. Her house is one of his favor- 
 ite resorts, where he is a very important personage. 
 He makes her a visit of business once a year, when he 
 looks into all her affairs ; which, as she is no manager, 
 are apt to get into confusion. He examines the books 
 of the overseer, and shoots about the estate, which, he 
 says, is well stocked with game, notwithstanding that it 
 is poached by all the vagabonds in the neighborhood. 
 
 It is thought, as I before hinted, that the captain 
 will inherit the greater part of her property, having 
 always been her chief favorite : for, in fact, she is par- 
 tial to a red coat. She has now come to the Hall to be 
 present at his nuptials, having a great disposition to 
 interest herself in all matters of love and matrimony. 
 
 AN OLD SOLDIER 
 
 The Hall was thrown into some little agitation, a 
 few days since, by the arrival of General Harbottle. 
 He had been expected for several days, and looked for, 
 rather impatiently, by several of the family. Master 
 Simon assured me that I would like the general hugely, 
 for he was a blade of the old school, and an excellent 
 table companion. Lady Lillycraft, also, appeared to 
 be somewhat fluttered, on the morning of the general's 
 arrival, for he had been one of her early admirers ; and 
 she recollected him only as a dashing young ensign, 
 just come upon the town. She actually spent an hour 
 
14 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 longer at her toilette, and made her appearance ^Yilh 
 her hair uncommonly frizzed and powdered, and an 
 additional quantity of rouge. She was evidently a little 
 surprised and shocked, therefore, at finding the lithe 
 dashing ensign transformed into a corpulent old gen- 
 eral, with a double chin ; though it was a perfect picture 
 to witness their salutations; the graciousness of her 
 profound courtesy, and the air of the old school with 
 which the general took off his hat, swayed it gently in 
 his hand, and bowed his powdered head. 
 
 All this bustle and anticipation has caused me to 
 study the general with a little more attention than, per- 
 haps, I should otherwise have done ; and the few days 
 that he has already passed at the Hall have enabled 
 me, I think, to furnish a tolerable likeness of him to 
 the reader. 
 
 He is, as Master Simon observed, a soldier of the old 
 school, with powdered head, side locks, and pigtail. 
 His face is shaped like the stern of a Dutch man-of- 
 war, narrow at top, and wide at bottom, with full rosy 
 cheeks and a double chin; so that, to use the cant of 
 the day, his organs of eating may be said to be power- 
 fully developed. 
 
 The general, though a veteran, has seen very little 
 active service, except the taking of Seringapatam, 
 which forms an era in his history". He wears a large 
 emerald in his bosom, and a diamond on his finger, 
 which he got on that occasion, and whoever is unlucky 
 enough to notice either, is sure to involve himself in 
 the whole history of the siege. To judge from the gen- 
 eral's conversation, the taking of Seringapatam is the 
 most important affair that has occurred for the last 
 century. 
 
AN OLD SOLDIER 15 
 
 On the approach of warlike times on the continent, 
 he was rapidly promoted to get him out of the way of 
 younger officers of merit; until, having been hoisted 
 to the rank of general, he was quietly laid on the shelf. 
 Since that time his campaigns have been principally 
 confined to watering-places; where he drinks the waters 
 for a slight touch of the liver which he got in India; 
 and plays whist with old dowagers, with whom he has 
 flirted in his younger days. Indeed, he talks of all 
 the fine women of the last half century, and, accord- 
 ing to hints which he now and then drops, has enjoyed 
 the particular smiles of many of them. 
 
 He has seen considerable garrison duty, and can 
 speak of almost every place famous for good quarters, 
 and where the inhabitants give good dinners. He is a 
 diner-out of first-rate currency, when in town; being 
 invited to one place, because he has been seen at an- 
 other. In the same way he is invited about the country- 
 seats, and can describe half the seats in the kingdom, 
 from actual observation; nor is any one better versed 
 in court gossip, and the pedigrees and intermarriages 
 of the nobility. 
 
 As the general is an old bachelor, and an old beau, 
 and there are several ladies at the Hall, especially his 
 quondam flame Lady Lillycraft, he is put rather upon 
 his gallantry. He commonly passes some time, there- 
 fore, at his toilette, and takes the field at a late hour 
 every morning, with his hair dressed out and powdered, 
 and a rose in his button-hole. After he has breakfasted, 
 he walks up and down the terrace in the sunshine, hum- 
 ming an air, and hemming between every stave, carry- 
 ing one hand behind his back, and with the other touch- 
 ing his cane to the ground, and then raising it up to his 
 
16 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 shoulder. Should he, in these morning promenades, 
 meet any of the elder ladies of the family, as he fre- 
 quently does Lady Lillycraft, his hat is immediately 
 in his hand, and it is enough to remind one of those 
 courtly groups of ladies and gentlemen, in old prints 
 of Windsor-terrace, or Kensington Garden. 
 
 He talks frequently about " the service," and is fond 
 of humming the old song, 
 
 Why, soldiers, why, 
 
 Should we be melancholy, boys? 
 
 Why, soldiers, why. 
 
 Whose business 'tis to die! 
 
 I cannot discover, however, that the general has ever 
 run any great risk of dying, excepting from an apo- 
 plexy, or an indigestion. He criticises all the battles 
 on the continent, and discusses the merits of the com- 
 manders, but never fails to bring the conversation, 
 ultimately, to Tippoo Saib and Seringapatam. I am 
 told that the general was a perfect champion at draw- 
 ing-rooms, parades, and watering-places, during the 
 late war, and was looked to with hope and confidence 
 by many an old lady, when laboring under the terror 
 of Bonaparte's invasion. 
 
 He is thoroughly loyal, and attends punctually on 
 levees when in town. He has treasured up many 
 remarkable sayings of the late king, particularly one 
 which the king made to him on a field-day, compli- 
 menting him on the excellence of his horse. He extols 
 the whole royal family, but especially the present king, 
 whom he pronounces the most perfect gentleman and 
 best whist-player in Europe. The general swears 
 rather more than is the fashion at the present day ; but 
 it was the mode in the old school. He is, however, very 
 
THE WIDOW'S RETINUE Ht 
 
 strict in religious matters, and a stanch churchman. 
 He repeats the responses very, loudly in church, and is 
 emphatical in praying for the king and royal family. 
 
 At table his royalty waxes very fervent with his sec- 
 ond bottle, and the song of " God save the King" puts 
 him into a perfect ecstacy. He is amazingly well con- 
 tented with the present state of things, and apt to get 
 a little impatient at any talk about national ruin and 
 agricultural distress. He says he has traveled about the 
 country as much as any man, and has met with nothing 
 but prosperity; and to confess the truth, a great part 
 of his time is spent in visiting from one country-seat 
 to another, and riding about the parks of his friends. 
 "They talk of public distress," said the general this 
 day to me, at dinner, as he smacked a glass of rich 
 Burgundy, and cast his eyes about the ample board; 
 " they talk of public distress, but where do we find it, 
 sir ? I see none. I see no reason any one has to com- 
 plain. Take my word for it, sir, this talk about public 
 distress is all humbug!" 
 
 THE WIDOW'S RETINUE 
 
 In giving an account of the arrival of Lady Lillycraft 
 at the Hall, I ought to have mentioned the entertain- 
 ment which I derived from witnessing the unpacking 
 of her carriage, and the disposing of her retinue. There 
 is something extremely amusing to me in the number 
 of factitious wants, the loads of imaginary conveniences, 
 but real incumbrances, with which the luxurious are 
 apt to burthen themselves. I like to watch the whimsi- 
 cal stir and display about one of these petty progresses. 
 The number of robustious footmen and retainers of all 
 
18 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 kinds bustling about, with looks of infinite gravity and 
 importance, to do almost nothing. The number of 
 heavy trunks, and parcels, and bandboxes belonging 
 to my lady; and the solicitude exhibited about some 
 humble, odd-looking box, by my lady's maid; the 
 cushions piled in the carriage to niake a soft seat still 
 softer, and to prevent the dreaded possibility of a jolt; 
 the smelling-bottles, the cordials, the baskets of biscuit 
 and fruit; the new publications; all provided to guard 
 against hunger, fatigue, or ennui ; the led horses to vary 
 the mode of traveling; and all this preparation and 
 parade to move, perhaps, some very good-for-nothing 
 personage about a little space of earth ! 
 
 I do not mean to apply the latter part of these ob- 
 servations to Lady Lillycraft, for whose simple kind- 
 heartedness I have a very great respect, and who is 
 really a most amiable and worthy being. I cannot 
 refrain, however, from mentioning some of the motlev 
 retinue she has brought with her; and which, indeed, 
 bespeak the overflowing kindness of her nature, which 
 requires her to be surrounded with objects on which 
 to lavish it. 
 
 In the first place, her ladyshij) has a pampered coach- 
 man, with a red face, and cheeks that hang down like 
 dew-laps. He evidently domineers over her a little with 
 respect to the fat horses; and only drives out when he 
 thinks proper, and when he thinks it will be "good for 
 the cattle." 
 
 She has a favorite page to attend upon her person: 
 a handsome boy of about twelve years of age, but a 
 mischievous varlet, very much spoiled, and in a fair 
 way to be good for nothing. He is dressed in green, 
 with a profusion of gold cord and gilt buttons about 
 
THE WIDOW'S RETINUE 19 
 
 his clothes. She always has one or two attendants of 
 the kind, who are replaced by, others as soon as they 
 grow to fourteen years of age. She has brought two 
 dogs with her, also, out of a number of pets which she 
 maintains at home. One is a fat spaniel, called Zephyr 
 — though heaven defend me from such a zephyr ! He 
 is fed out of all shape and comfort ; his eyes are nearly 
 strained out of his head ; he wheezes with corpulency, 
 and cannot walk without great difficulty. The other is 
 a little, old, gray muzzled curmudgeon, with an un- 
 happy eye, that kindles like a coal if you only look at 
 him; his nose turns up; his mouth is drawn into wrin- 
 kles, so as to show his teeth; in short, he has altogether 
 the look of a dog far gone in misanthropy, and totally 
 sick of the world. When he walks, he has his tail curled 
 up so tight that it seems to lift his feet from the ground ; 
 and he seldom makes use of more than three leffs at a 
 
 o 
 
 time, keeping the other drawn up as a reserve. This 
 last wretch is called Beauty. 
 
 These dogs are full of elegant ailments unknown to 
 vulgar dogs; and are petted and nursed by Lady Lilly- 
 craft with the tenderest kindness. They are pampered 
 and fed with delicacies by their fellow-minion, the page ; 
 but their stomachs are often weak and out of order, so 
 that they cannot eat; though I have now and then seen 
 the page give them a mischievous pinch, or thwack 
 over the head, when his mistress was not by. Thev 
 have cushions for their express use, on which they lie 
 before the fire, and yet are apt to shiver and moan if 
 there is the least draught of air. When any one enters 
 the room, they make a tyrannical barking that is abso- 
 lutely deafening. They are insolent to all the other 
 dogs of the establishment. There is a noble stag-hound. 
 
20 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 a great favorite of the Squire's, who is a privileged 
 visitor to the parlor; but the moment he makes his 
 appearance, these intruders fly at him with furious 
 rage; and I have admired the sovereign indifference 
 and contempt Avith which he seems to look down upon 
 his puny assailants. When her ladyship drives out, 
 these dogs are generally carried w^ith her to take the 
 air; when they look out of each window of the carriage, 
 and bark at all vulgar pedestrian dogs. These dogs 
 are a continual source of misery to the household : as 
 they are always in the way, they every now and then 
 get their toes trod on, and then there is a yelping on 
 their part, and a loud lamentation on the part of their 
 mistress, that fill the room with clamor and confusion. 
 
 Lastly, there is her ladyship's waiting-gentlewoman, 
 Mrs. Hannah, a prim, pragmatical old maid; one of 
 the most intolerable and intolerant virgins that ever 
 lived. She has kept her virtue by her until it has 
 turned sour, and now every word and look smacks 
 of verjuice. She is the very opposite to her mistress, 
 for one hates, and the other loves, all mankind. How 
 they first came together I cannot imagine; but they 
 have lived together for many years; and the abigail's 
 temper being tart and encroaching, and her ladyship's 
 easy and yielding, the former has got the complete 
 upper hand, and tyrannizes over the good lady in se- 
 cret. 
 
 Lady Lillycraft now and then complains of it, in 
 great confidence, to her friends, but hushes up the 
 subject immediately, if Mrs. Hannah makes her ap- 
 pearance. Indeed, she has been so accustomed to be 
 attended by her, that she thinks she could not do w ith- 
 out her; though one great study of her life is to keep 
 
READY-MONEY JACK 21 
 
 Mrs. Hannah in good humor, by httle presents and 
 kindnesses. 
 
 Master Simon has a most devout abhorrence, mingfled 
 with awe, for this ancient spinster. He told me the 
 other day, in a whisper, that she was a cursed brim- 
 stone — in fact, he added another epithet, which I 
 would not repeat for the world. I have remarked, how- 
 ever, that he is always extremely civil to her when they 
 meet. 
 
 READY-MONEY JACK 
 
 On the skirts of the neighboring village there lives 
 a kind of small potentate, who, for aught I know, is a 
 representative of one of the most ancient legitimate 
 lines of the present day ; for the empire over which he 
 reigns has belonged to his family time out of mind. 
 His territories comprise a considerable number of good 
 fat acres ; and his seat of power is in an old farm-house, 
 where he enjoys, unmolested, the stout oaken chair 
 of his ancestors. The personage to whom I allude is 
 a sturdy old yeoman of the name of John Tibbets, 
 or rather Ready-Money Jack Tibbets, as he is called 
 throughout the neighborhood. 
 
 The first place where he attracted my attention was 
 in the church-yard on Sunday ; where he sat on a tomb- 
 stone after the service, with his hat a little on one side, 
 holding forth to a small circle of auditors ; and, as I pre- 
 sumed, expounding the law and the prophets; until, 
 on drawing a little nearer, I found he was only expa- 
 tiating on the merits of a brown horse. He presented 
 so faithful a picture of a substantial English yeoman, 
 such as he is often described in books, heightened. 
 
22 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 indeed, by some little finery, peculiar to himself, that 
 I could not but take note of his whole appearance. 
 
 He was between fifty and sixty, of a strong, muscular 
 frame, and at least six feet high, with a physiognomy as 
 grave as a lion's, and set off with short, curling, iron- 
 gray locks. His shirt-collar was turned down, and dis- 
 played a neck covered with the same short, curling, 
 gray hair; and he wore a colored silk neckcloth, tied 
 very loosely, and tucked in at the bosom, with a green 
 paste brooch on the knot. His coat was of dark green 
 cloth, with silver buttons, on each of which was en- 
 graved a stag, with his own name, John Tibbets, under- 
 neath. He had an inner waistcoat of figured chintz, 
 between which and his coat was another of scarlet 
 cloth, unbuttoned. His breeches were also left unbut- 
 toned at the knees, not from any slovenliness, but to 
 show a broad pair of scarlet garters. His stockings 
 were blue, with white clocks ; he wore large silver shoe- 
 buckles; a broad paste buckle in his hat-band; his 
 sleeve-buttons were gold seven-shilling pieces; and he 
 had bxo or three guineas hanging as ornaments to his 
 watch-chain. 
 
 On making some inquiries about him, I gathered, 
 that he was descended from a line of farmers that had 
 always lived on the same spot, and owned the same 
 property; and that half of the church-yard was taken 
 up with the tombstones of his race. He has all his life 
 been an important character in the place. When a 
 youngster he was one of the most roaring blades of the 
 neighborhood. No one could match him at wrestling, 
 pitching the bar, cudgel play, and other athletic exer- 
 cises. Like the renowned Pinner of Wakefield, he was 
 the village champion; carried off the prize at all the 
 
READY-MONEY JACK 23 
 
 fairs, and threw his gauntlet at the country round. 
 Even to this day the old people talk of his prowess, 
 and undervalue, in comparison, all heroes of the green 
 that have succeeded him ; nay, they say, that if Ready- 
 Money Jack were to take the field even now, there is 
 no one could stand before him. 
 
 When Jack's father died, the neighbors shook their 
 heads, and predicted that young hopeful would soon 
 make way with the old homestead ; but Jack falsified all 
 their predictions. The moment he succeeded to the 
 paternal farm he assumed a new character: took a 
 wife; attended resolutely to his affairs, and became 
 an industrious, thrifty farmer. With the family pro- 
 perty he inherited a set of old family maxims, to which 
 he steadily adhered. He saw to every thing himself; 
 put his own hand to the plough; worked hard; ate 
 heartily; slept soundly; paid for every thing in cash 
 down; and never danced except he could do it to the 
 music of his own money in both pockets. He has never 
 been without a hundred or two pounds in gold by him, 
 and never allows a debt to stand unpaid. This has 
 gained him his current name, of which, by the by, he is 
 a little proud ; and has caused him to be looked upon as 
 a very wealthy man by all the village. 
 
 Notwithstanding his thrift, however, he has never 
 denied himself the amusements of life, but has taken a 
 share in every passing pleasure. It is his maxim, that 
 *'he that works hard can afford to play." He is, there- 
 fore, an attendant at all the country fairs and wakes, 
 and has signalized himself by feats of strength and 
 prowess on every village green in the shire. He often 
 makes his appearance at horse-races, and sports his 
 half guinea, and even his guinea at a time; keeps a good 
 
24 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 horse for his own riding, and to this day is fond of 
 following the hounds, and is generally in at the death. 
 He keeps up the rustic revels, and hospitalities too, for 
 which his paternal farm-house has always been noted ; 
 has plenty of good cheer and dancing at harvest-home, 
 and, above all, keeps the "merry night," ^ as it is 
 termed, at Christmas. 
 
 With all his love of amusement, however, Jack is by 
 no means a boisterous jovial companion. He is seldom 
 known to laugh even in the midst of his gayety ; but 
 maintains the same grave, lion-like demeanor. He is 
 very slow at comprehending a joke ; and is apt to sit puz- 
 zling at it, with a perplexed look, while the rest of the 
 company is in a roar. This gravity has, perhaps, grown 
 on him with the growing weight of his character; 
 for he is gradually rising into patriarchal dignity in his 
 native place. Though he no longer takes an active 
 part in athletic sports, he always presides at them, and 
 is appealed to on all occasions as umpire. He main- 
 tains the peace on the village green at holiday games, 
 and quells all brawls and quarrels by collaring the par- 
 ties and shaking them heartily, if refractory. No one 
 ever pretends to raise a hand against him, or to contend 
 against his decisions; the young men having grown up 
 in habitual awe of his prowess, and in implicit defer- 
 ence to him as the champion and lord of the green. 
 
 He is a regular frequenter of the village inn, the 
 landlady having been a sweetheart of his in early life, 
 
 ^ Merry Night. A rustic merry-makinji; in a farm-house about 
 Christmas, common in some parts of Yorkshire. There is an abun- 
 dance of homely fare, tea, cakes, fruit, and ale; various feats of agil- 
 ity, amusing games, romping, dancing, and kissing withal. They 
 commonly break up at midnight. 
 
READY-MONEY JACK 25 
 
 and he having always continued on kind terms with 
 her. He seldom, however, drinks any thing but a 
 draught of ale; smokes his pipe, and pays his reckon- 
 ing before leaving the tap-room. Here he "gives his 
 little senate laws"; decides bets, which are very gener- 
 ally referred to him ; determines upon the characters 
 and qualities of horses ; and, indeed, plays now and then 
 the part of a judge, in settling petty disputes between 
 neighbors, which otherwise might have been nursed 
 by country attorneys into tolerable law-suits. Jack is 
 very candid and impartial in his decisions, but he has 
 not a head to carry a long argument, and is very apt 
 to get perplexed and out of patience if there is much 
 pleading. He generally breaks through the argument 
 with a strong voice, and brings matters to a summary 
 conclusion, by pronouncing what he calls the "upshot 
 of the business," or, in other words, " the long and the 
 short of the matter." 
 
 Jack made a journey to London a great many years 
 since, which has furnished him with topics of conver- 
 sation ever since. He saw the old king on the terrace 
 at Windsor, who stopped, and pointed him out to one 
 of the princesses, being probably struck with Jack's 
 truly yeoman-like appearance. This is a favorite an- 
 ecdote with him, and has no doubt had a great effect in 
 making him a most loyal subject ever since, in spite of 
 taxes and poor's rates. He was also at Bartholomew 
 Fair, where he had half the buttons cut off his coat ; 
 and a gang of pickpockets, attracted by his external 
 show of gold and silver, made a regular attempt to 
 hustle him as he was gazing at a show ; but for once they 
 caught a tartar; for Jack enacted as great wonders 
 among the gang as Samson (Jid among the Philistines. 
 
26 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 One of his neighbors, who had. accompanied him to 
 town, and was with him at the fair, brought back an 
 account of his exploits, which raised the pride of the 
 whole village; who considered their champion as hav- 
 ing subdued all London, and eclipsed the achieve- 
 ments of Friar Tuck, or even the renowned Robin 
 Hood himself. 
 
 Of late years the old fellow has begun to take the 
 world easily; he works less, and indulges in greater 
 leisure, his son having grown up, and succeeded to him 
 both in the labors of the farm, and the exploits of the 
 green. Like all sons of distinguished men, however, 
 his father's renown is a disadvantage to him, for he 
 can never come up to public expectation. Though a 
 fine active fellow of three-and-lwenty, and quite the 
 "cock of the walk," yet the old people declare he is 
 nothing like what Ready- Money Jack was at his time 
 of life. The youngster himself acknowledges his infe- 
 riority, and has a wonderful opinion of the old man, who 
 indeed taught him all his athletic accomplishments, 
 and holds such a sway over him, that I am told, even 
 to this day, he would have no hesitation to take him in 
 hands, if he rebelled against paternal government. 
 
 The Squire holds Jack in very high esteem, and 
 shows him to all his visitors, as a specimen of old Eng- 
 glish " heart of oak." He frequently calls at his house, 
 and tastes some of his home-brewed, which is excel- 
 lent. He made Jack a present of old Tusser's Hundred 
 Points of Good Husbandries which has furnished him 
 with reading ever since, and is his text-book and man- 
 ual in all agricultural and domestic concerns. He has 
 made dog's ears at the most favorite passages, and 
 knows many of the poetical maxims by heart. 
 
STORY-TELLING 27 
 
 Tibbets, though not a man to be daunted or fluttered 
 by high acquaintances, and though he cherishes a 
 sturdy independence of mind and manner, yet is evi- 
 dently gratified by the attentions of the Squire, whom 
 he has known from boyhood, and pronounces '*atrue 
 gentleman every inch of him." He is, also, on excellent 
 terms with Master Simon, who is a kind of privy coun- 
 selor to the family ; but his great favorite is the Oxonian, 
 whom he taught to wrestle and play at quarter-staff 
 when a boy, and considers the most promising young 
 gentleman in the whole county. 
 
 STORY-TELLING 
 
 A FAVORITE evening pastime at the Llall, and one 
 which the worthy Squire is fond of promoting, is story- 
 telling, " a good old-fashioned fireside amusement," as 
 he terms it. Indeed, I believe he promotes it chiefly 
 because it was one of the choice recreations in those 
 days of yore, when ladies and gentlemen were not much 
 in the habit of reading. Be this as it may, he will often, 
 at supper table, when conversation flags, call on some 
 one or other of the company for a story, as it was for- 
 merly the custom to call for a song; and it is edifying to 
 see the exemplary patience, and even satisfaction, with 
 which the good old gentleman will sit and listen to 
 some hackneyed tale that he has heard for at least a 
 hundred times. 
 
 In this way one evening the current of anecdotes 
 and stories ran upon mysterious personages that have 
 figured at difl^erent times, and filled the world with 
 doubt and conjecture; such as the Wandering Jew; 
 the Man with the Iron iVIask, who tormented the curi- 
 
28 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 osity of all Europe; the Invisible Girl, and last, though 
 not least, the Pigfaced Lady. 
 
 At length one of the company was called upon who 
 had the most unpromising physiognomy for a story- 
 teller that ever I had seen. He was a thin, pale, weazen- 
 faced man, extremely nervous, who had sat at one cor- 
 ner of the table, shrunk up, as it were, into himself, and 
 almost swallowed up in the cape of his coat, as a turtle 
 in its shell. 
 
 The very demand seemed to throw him into a ner- 
 vous agitation, yet he did not refuse. He emerged his 
 head out of his shell, made a few odd grimaces and ges- 
 ticulations, before he could get his muscles into order, 
 or his voice under command, and then offered to give 
 some account of a mysterious personage whom he had 
 recently encountered in the course of his travels, and 
 one whom he thought fully entitled of being classed 
 with the Man with the Iron Mask. 
 
 I was so much struck with his extraordinary narra- 
 tive, that I have written it out to the best of my recollec- 
 tion, for the amusement of the reader. I think it has 
 in it all the elements of that mysterious and romantic 
 narrative, so greedily sought after at the present day. 
 
 THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 
 
 A STAGE-COACH ROMANCE 
 
 It was a rainy Sunday in the gloomy month of 
 November. I had been detained, in the course of a 
 journey, by a slight indisposition, from which I was 
 recovering; but was still feverish, and obliged to keep 
 within doors all dav, in an inn of the small town of 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 29 
 
 Derby. A wet Sunday in a country inn ! — whoever 
 has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of 
 my situation. The rain pattered against the casements ; 
 the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. I 
 went to the windows in quest of something to amuse 
 the eye ; but it seemed as if I had been placed completely 
 out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my 
 bedroom looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of 
 chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded 
 a full view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more 
 calculated to make a man sick of this world than a 
 stable-yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with 
 wet straw that had been kicked about by travelers 
 and stable-boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool 
 of water, surrounding an island of muck; there were 
 several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a 
 cart, among which was a miserable, crest-fallen cock, 
 drenched out of all life and spirit; his drooping tail 
 matted, as it were, into a sinde feather, alon^ which 
 the water trickled from his back ; near the cart was a 
 half-dozing cow, chewing the cud, and standing pa- 
 tiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapor rising from 
 her reeking hide; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneli- 
 ness of the stable, was poking his spectral head out of a 
 window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves ; an 
 unhappy cur, chained to a doghouse hard by, uttered 
 something every now and then, between a bark and a 
 yelp; a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards 
 and forwards through the yard in pattens, looking 
 as sulky as the weather itself; every thing, in short, was 
 comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hardened 
 ducks, assembled like boon companions round a pud- 
 dle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. 
 
30 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. 
 My room soon became insupportable. I abandoned 
 it, and sought what is technically called the travelers '- 
 room. This is a public room set apart at most inns 
 for the accommodation of a class of wayfarers, called 
 travelers, or riders; a kind of commercial kniirhts- 
 errant, who are incessantly scouring the kingdom in 
 gigs, on horseback, or by coach. They are the only 
 successors that I know of at the present day, to the 
 knights-errant of yore. They lead the same kind of 
 roving adventurous life, only changing the lance for a 
 driving-whip, the buckler for a pattern-card, and the 
 coat of mail for an upper Benjamin. Instead of vindi- 
 cating the charms of peerless beauty, they rove about, 
 spreading the fame and standing of some substantial 
 tradesman, or manufacturer, and are ready at any time 
 to bargain in his name; it being the fashion now-a-days 
 to trade, instead of fight, with one another. As the room 
 of the hostel, in the good old fighting times, would be 
 hung round at night with the armor of way-worn war- 
 riors, such as coats of mail, falchions, and yawning 
 helmets; so the travelers'-room is garnished with the 
 harnessing of their successors, with box-coats, whips of 
 all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oil-cloth covered hats. 
 
 I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to 
 talk with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, 
 two or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of 
 them. One was just finishing his breakfast, quarreling 
 with his bread and butter, and huflSng the waiter; 
 another buttoned on a pair of gaiters, with many ex- 
 ecrations at Boots for not having cleaned his shoes 
 well; a third sat drumming on the table with his 
 fingers and looking at the rain as it streamed down 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 31 
 
 the window-glass; they all appeared infected by the 
 weather, and disappeared, one after the other, without 
 exchanging a word. 
 
 I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at the 
 people, picking their way to church, with petticoats 
 hoisted midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell 
 ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then 
 amused myself with watching the daughters of a trades- 
 man opposite; who, being confined to the house for 
 fear of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their 
 charms at the front windows, to fascinate the chance 
 tenants of the inn. They at length were summoned 
 away by a vigilant vinegar-faced mother, and I had 
 nothing further from without to amuse me. 
 
 What was I to do to pass away the long-lived day ? 
 I was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thing about 
 an inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times 
 duller. Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco 
 smoke, and which I had already read half a dozen times. 
 Good for nothing books, that were worse than rainy 
 weather. I bored myself to death with an old volume 
 of the Ladifs Magazine. I read all the commonplaced 
 names of ambitious travelers scrawled on the panes 
 of glass; the eternal families of the Smiths, and the 
 Browns, and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and 
 all the other sons; and I deciphered several scraps of 
 fatiguing inn-window poetry which I have met with in 
 all parts of the world. 
 
 The day continued lowering and gloomy; the slov- 
 enly, ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along; there 
 was no variety even in the rain : it was one dull, con- 
 tinued, monotonous patter — patter — patter, except- 
 ing that now and then I was enlivened by the idea of 
 
32 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 a brisk shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a 
 passing umbrella. 
 
 It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a 
 hackneyed phrase of the day) when, in the course of 
 the morning, a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled 
 through the street, with outside passengers stuck all 
 over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed 
 together, and reeking with the steams of wet box-coats 
 and upper Benjamins. 
 
 The sound brought out from their lurking-places 
 a crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the 
 carroty-headed hostler, and that nondescript animal 
 ycleped Boots, and all the other vagabond race that 
 infest the purlieus of an inn; but the bustle was tran- 
 sient; the coach again whirled on its way; and boy and 
 dog, and hostler and Boots, all slunk back again to 
 their holes ; the street again became silent, and the rain 
 continued to rain on. In fact, there was no hope of its 
 clearing up; the barometer pointed to rainy weather; 
 mine hostess' tortoise-shell cat sat by the fire washing 
 her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears; and, on 
 referring to the Almanac, I found a direful prediction 
 stretching from the top of the page to the bottom 
 through the whole month, " expect — much — rain — 
 about — this — time ! " 
 
 I was dreadfully hipped. The hours seemed as if 
 they would never creep by. The very ticking of the 
 clock became irksome. At length the stillness of the 
 house was interrupted by the ringing of a bell. Shortly 
 after I heard the voice of a waiter at the bar: "The 
 stout gentleman in No. 13, wants his breakfast. Tea 
 and bread and butter, with ham and eggs ; the eggs not 
 to be too much done.'* 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 33 
 
 In such a situation as mine every incident is of im- 
 portance. Here was a subject of speculation presented 
 to my mind, and ample exercise for my imagination. 
 I am prone to paint pictures to myself, and on this 
 occasion I had some materials to work upon. Had the 
 guest up stairs been mentioned as Mr. Smith, or Mr. 
 Brown, or Mr. Jackson, or Mr. Johnson, or merely as 
 " the gentleman in No. 13," it would have been a per- 
 fect blank to me. I should have thought nothing of it; 
 but "The stout gentleman!" — the very name had 
 something in it of the picturesque. It at once gave the 
 size; it embodied the personage to my mind's eye, and 
 my fancy did the rest. 
 
 He was stout, or, as some term it, lusty ; in all prob- 
 ability, therefore, he was advanced in life, some people 
 expanding as they grow old. By his breakfasting rather 
 late, and in his own room, he must be a man accus- 
 tomed to live at his ease, and above the necessity of 
 early rising; no doubt a round, rosy, lusty old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 There was another violent rino^in^:. The stout "[entle- 
 man was impatient for his breakfast. He was evidently 
 a man of importance ; " well to do in the world " ; accus- 
 tomed to be promptly waited upon ; of a keen appetite, 
 and a little cross when hungry; "perhaps," thought I, 
 "he may be some London Alderman; or who knows 
 but he may be a Member of ParHament.^" 
 
 The breakfast was sent up, and there was a short 
 interval of silence; he was, doubtless, making the tea. 
 Presently there was a violent ringing; and before it 
 could be answered, another ringing still more violent. 
 "Bless me! what a choleric old gentleman!" The 
 waiter came down in a huff. The butter was rancid, 
 
34 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 the eggs were over-done, the ham was too salt : — the 
 stout gentleman was evidently nice in his eating; one 
 of those who eat and growl, and keep the waiter on 
 the trot, and live in a state militant with the house- 
 hold. 
 
 The hostess got into a fume. I should observe that 
 she was a brisk, coquettish woman ; a little of a shrew, 
 and something of a slammerkin, but very pretty withal ; 
 with a nincompoop for a husband, as shrews are apt 
 to have. She rated the servants roundly for their negli- 
 gence in sending up so bad a breakfast, but said not a 
 word against the stout gentleman; by which I clearly 
 perceived that he must be a man of consequence, en- 
 titled to make a noise and to give trouble at a country 
 inn. Other eggs, and ham, and bread and butter were 
 sent up. They appeared to be more graciously received ; 
 at least there was no further complaint. 
 
 I had not made many turns about the travelers'- 
 room, when there was another ringing. Shortly after- 
 wards there was a stir and an inquest about the house. 
 The stout gentleman wanted the Times or the Chronicle 
 newspaper. I set him down, therefore, for a whig; or 
 rather, from his being so absolute and lordly where he 
 had a chance, I suspected him of being a radical. Hunt, 
 I had heard, was a large man; "who knows," thought 
 I, "but it is Hunt himself!" 
 
 My curiosity began to be awakened. I inquired of 
 the waiter who was this stout gentleman that was mak- 
 ing all this stir; but I could get no information : nobody 
 seemed to know his name. The landlords of bustling 
 inns seldom trouble their heads about the names or 
 occupations of their transient guests. The color of a 
 coat, the shape or size of the person, is enough to sug- 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 35 
 
 gest a traveling name. It is either the tall gentleman, 
 or the short gentleman, or the gentleman in black, or 
 the gentleman in snuff-color; or, as in the present in- 
 stance, the stout gentleman. A designation of the kind 
 once hit on answers every purpose, and saves all further 
 inquiry. 
 
 Rain — rain — rain ! pitiless, ceaseless rain! No 
 such thing as putting a foot out of doors, and no occu- 
 pation nor amusement within. By and by I heard some 
 one walking over head. It was in the stout gentleman's 
 room. He evidently was a large man by the heaviness 
 of his tread; and an old man from his wearing such 
 creaking soles. "He is doubtless," thought I, "some 
 rich old square-toes of regular habits, and is now taking 
 exercise after breakfast." 
 
 I now read all the advertisements of coaches and 
 hotels that were stuck about the mantel-piece. The 
 Ladys Magazine had become an abomination to me; 
 it was as tedious as the day itself. I wandered out, not 
 knowing what to do, and ascended again to my room. 
 I had not been there long, when there was a squall 
 from a neighboring bedroom. A door opened and 
 slammed violently; a chambermaid, that I had re- 
 marked for having a ruddy, good-humored face, went 
 down stairs in a violent flurry. The stout gentleman 
 had been rude to her ! 
 
 This sent a whole host of my deductions to the deuce 
 in a moment. This unknown personage could not be 
 an old gentleman ; for old gentlemen are not apt to be 
 so obstreperous to chambermaids. He could not be a 
 young gentleman ; for young gentlemen are not apt to 
 inspire such indignation. He must be a middle-aged 
 man, and confounded ugly into the bargain, or the girl 
 
S6 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 would not have taken the matter in such terrible 
 dudgeon. I confess I was sorely puzzled. 
 
 In a few minutes I heard the voice of my landlady. 
 I caught a glance of her as she came tramping up stairs ; 
 her face glowing, her cap flaring, her tongue wagging 
 the whole way. "She'd have no such doings in her 
 house, she'd warrant. If gentlemen did spend money 
 freely, it was no rule. She'd have no servant maids of 
 hers treated in that way, when they were about their 
 work, that's what she would n't." 
 
 As I hate squabbles, particularly with women, and 
 above all with pretty women, I slunk back into my 
 room, and partly closed the door; but my curiosity was 
 too much excited not to listen. The landlady marched 
 intrepidly to the enemy's citadel, and entered it with 
 a storm: the door closed after her. I heard her voice 
 in high windy clamor for a moment or two. Then it 
 gradually subsided, like a gust of wind in a garret; 
 then there was a laugh; then I heard nothing more. 
 
 After a little while my landlady came out with an 
 odd smile on her face, adjusting her cap, which was a 
 little on one side. As she went down stairs I heard the 
 landlord ask her what was the matter; she said, "No- 
 thing at all, only the girl's a fool." — I was more than 
 ever perplexed what to make of this unaccountable 
 personage, who could put a good-natured chamber- 
 maid in a passion, and send away a termagant land- 
 lady in smiles. He could not be so old, nor cross, nor 
 ugly either. 
 
 I had to go to work at his picture again, and to paint 
 him entirely different. I now set him down for one of 
 those stout gentlemen that are frequently met with 
 swaggering about the doors of country inns. Moist, 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 37 
 
 merry fellows, in Belcher handkerchiefs, whose bulk 
 is a little assisted by malt-liquors. Men who have seen 
 the world, and been sworn at Highgate; who are used 
 to tavern life; up to all the tricks of tapsters, and know- 
 ing in the ways of sinful publicans. Free-livers on a 
 small scale; who are prodigal within the compass of 
 a guinea ; who call all the waiters by name, touzle the 
 maids, gossip with the landlady at the bar, and prose 
 over a pint of port, or a glass of negus, after dinner. 
 The morning wore away in forming these and sim- 
 ilar surmises. As fast as I wove one system of belief, 
 some movement of the unknown would completely 
 overturn it, and throw all my thoughts again into con- 
 fusion. Such are the solitary operations of a feverish 
 mind. I was, as I have said, extremely nervous; and 
 the continual meditation on the concerns of this invisi- 
 ble personage began to have its effect :. — I was getting 
 a fit of the fidgets. 
 
 Dinner-time came. I hoped the stout gentleman 
 might dine in the travelers '-room, and that I might at 
 length get a view of his person; but no — he had din- 
 ner served in his own room. What could be the mean- 
 ing of this solitude and mystery ? He could not be a 
 radical ; there was something too aristocratical in thus 
 keeping himself apart from the rest of the world, and 
 condemning himself to his own dull company through- 
 out a rainy day. And then, too, he lived too well for a 
 discontented politician. He seemed to expatiate on a 
 variety of dishes, and to sit over his wine like a jolly 
 friend of good living. Indeed, my doubts on this head 
 were soon at an end; for he could not have finished 
 his first bottle before I could faintly hear him hum- 
 ming a tune; and on listening, I found it to be "God 
 
38 BRACEBIIIDGE HALL 
 
 save the King." 'T was plain, then, he was no radical, 
 but a faithful subject; one who grew loyal over his 
 bottle, and was ready to stand by king and constitu- 
 tion, when he could stand by nothing else. But who 
 could he be ! My conjectures began to run wild. Was 
 he not some personage of distinction traveling incog. ? 
 " God knows !'* said I, at my wit's end ; " it may be one 
 of the royal family for aught I know, for they are all 
 stout gentlemen!" 
 
 The weather continued rainy. The mysterious un- 
 known kept his room, and, as far as I could judge, his 
 chair, for I did not hear him move. In the meantime, 
 as the day advanced, the travelers'-room began to be 
 frequented. Some, who had just arrived, came in but- 
 toned up in box-coats ; others came home who had been 
 dispersed about the town. Some took their dinners, 
 and some their tea. Had I been in a different mood, 
 I should have found entertainment in studying this 
 peculiar class of men. There were two especially, who 
 were regular wags of the road, and up to all the stand- 
 ing jokes of travelers. They had a thousand sly things 
 to say to the waiting-maid, whom they called Louisa, 
 and Ethelinda, and a dozen other fine names, changing 
 the name every time, and chuckling amazingly at their 
 own waggery. My mind, however, had become com- 
 pletely engrossed by the stout gentleman. He had kept 
 my fancy in chase during a long day, and it was not 
 now to be diverted from the scent. 
 
 The evening gradually wore away. The travelers 
 read the papers two or three times over. Some drew 
 round the fire and told long stories about their horses, 
 about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings 
 down. Thev discussed the credit of different merchants 
 
THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 39 
 
 and different inns ; and the two wags told several choice 
 anecdotes of pretty chambermaids, and kind land- 
 ladies. All this passed as they were quietly taking what 
 they called their night-caps, that is to say, strong glasses 
 of brandy and water and sugar, or some other mixture 
 of the kind; after which they one after another rang 
 for "Boots" and the chambermaid, and walked off to 
 bed in old shoes cut down into marvelously uncomfort- 
 able slippers. 
 
 There was now only one man left; a short-legged, 
 long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large, sandy 
 head. He sat by himself, with a glass of port wine 
 negus, and a spoon ; sipping and stirring, and meditat- 
 ing and sipping, until nothing was left but the spoon. 
 He gradually fell asleep bolt upright in his chair, with 
 the empty glass standing before him; and the candle 
 seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long, and 
 black, and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little 
 light that remained in the chamber. The gloom that 
 now prevailed was contagious. Around hung the shape- 
 less, and almost spectral, box-coats of departed trav- 
 elers, long since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the 
 ticking of the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings 
 of the sleeping topers, and the drippings of the rain, 
 drop — drop — drop, from the eaves of the house. 
 The church bells chimed midnight. All at once the 
 stout gentleman began to walk over head, pacing slowly 
 backwards and forwards. There was something ex- 
 tremely awful in all this, especially to one in my state 
 of nerves. These ghastly great-coats, these guttural 
 breathings, and the creaking footsteps of this myste- 
 rious being. His steps grew fainter and fainter, and 
 at length died away. I could bear it no longer. I was 
 
40 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 wound up to the desperation of a hero of romance. 
 "Be he who or what he may," said I to myself, "I'll 
 have a sight of him !" I seized a chamber candle, and 
 hurried up to No. 13. The door stood ajar. I hesitated 
 — I entered: the room was deserted. There stood a 
 large, broad-bottomed elbow-chair at a table, on which 
 was an empty tumbler, and a Times newspaper, and 
 the room smelt powerfully of Stilton cheese. 
 
 The mysterious stranger had evidently but just re- 
 tired. I turned off, sorely disappointed, to my room, 
 which had been changed to the front of the house. As 
 I went along the corridor, I saw a large pair of boots, 
 with dirty, waxed tops, standing at the door of a bed- 
 chamber. They doubtless belonged to the unknown; 
 but it would not do to disturb so redoubtable a person- 
 age in his den; he might discharge a pistol, or some- 
 thing worse, at my head. I went to bed, therefore, and 
 lay awake half the night in a terribly nervous state; 
 and even when I fell asleep, I was still haunted in my 
 dreams by the idea of the stout gentleman and his wax- 
 topped boots. 
 
 I slept rather late the next morning, and was awak- 
 ened by some stir and bustle in the house, which I could 
 not at first comprehend; until getting more awake, I 
 found there was a mail coach starting from the door. 
 Suddenly there was a cry from below, "The gentle- 
 man has forgot his umbrella ! look for the gentleman's 
 umbrella in No. 13 !" I heard an immediate scamper- 
 ing of a chambermaid along the passage, and a shrill 
 reply as she ran, "Here it is! here's the gentleman's 
 umbrella!" 
 
 The mysterious stranger then was on the point of 
 setting off. This was the only chance I should ever have 
 
THE FARM-HOUSE 41 
 
 of knowing him. I sprang out of bed, scrambled to the 
 window, snatched aside the curtains, and just caught 
 a gHmpse of the rear of a person getting in at the coach- 
 door. The skirts of a brown coat parted behind, and 
 gave me a full view of the broad disk of a pair of drab 
 breeches. The door closed — "all right!" was the 
 word — the coach whirled off: — and that was all I 
 ever saw of the stout gentleman ! 
 
 THE FARM-HOUSE 
 
 I WAS so much pleased with the anecdotes which 
 were told me of Ready- Money Jack Tibbets, that I got 
 Master Simon, a day or two since, to take me to his 
 house. It was an old-fashioned farm-house, built of 
 brick, with curiously twisted chimneys. It stood at a 
 little distance from the road, with a southern exposure, 
 looking upon a soft, green slope of meadow. There 
 was a small garden in front, with a row of beehives 
 humming among beds of sweet herbs and flowers. 
 Well-scoured milking-tubs, with bright copper hoops, 
 hung on the garden paling. Fruit trees were trained 
 up against the cottage, and pots of flowers stood in the 
 windows. A fat, superannuated mastiff lay in the sun- 
 shine at the door; with a sleek cat sleeping peacefully 
 across him. 
 
 Mr. Tibbets was from home at the time of our call- 
 ing, but we were received with hearty and homely wel- 
 come by his wife; a notable, motherly woman, and a 
 complete pattern for wives; since, according to Master 
 Simon's account, she never contradicts honest Jack, 
 and yet manages to have her own way, and to control 
 him in every thing. 
 
42 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 She received us in the main room of the house, a kind 
 of parlor and hall, with great brown beams of timber 
 across it, which Mr. Tibbets is apt to point out with 
 some exultation, observing, that they don't put such 
 timber in houses now-a-days. The furniture was old 
 fashioned, strong, and highly i)olished ; tlie walls were 
 hung with colored prints of the story of the Prodigal 
 Son, who was represented in a red coat and leather 
 breeches. Over the fireplace was a blunderbuss, and a 
 hard-favored likeness of Ready- Money Jack, taken, 
 when he was a young man, by the same artist that 
 painted the tavern sign; his mother having taken a 
 notion that the Tibbets had as much right to have a 
 gallery of family portraits as the folks at the Hall. 
 
 The good dame pressed us very much to take some 
 refreshment, and tempted us with a variety of house- 
 hold dainties, so that we were glad to compound by 
 tasting some of her home-made wines. While we were 
 there, the son and heir- apparent came home; a good- 
 looking young fellow, and something of a rustic beau. 
 He took us over the premises, and showed us the whole 
 establishment. An air of homely but substantial plenty 
 prevailed throughout; every thing was of the best ma- 
 terials, and in the best condition. Nothing was out of 
 place, or ill made; and you saw every where the signs 
 of a man who took care to have the worth of his money, 
 and paid as he went. 
 
 The farm-yard was well-stocked ; under a shed was 
 a taxed cart, in trim order, in which Ready-Money 
 Jack took his wife about the country. His well-fed 
 horse neighed from the stable, and when led out into 
 the yard, to use the words of young Jack, "he shone 
 like a bottle"; for he said the old man made it a rule 
 
THE FARM-HOUSE 43 
 
 that every thing about him should fare as well as he 
 did himself. 
 
 I was pleased to see the pride which the young fellow 
 seemed to have of his father. He gave us several par- 
 ticulars concerning his habits, which were pretty much 
 to the effect of those I have already mentioned. He 
 had never suffered an account to stand in his life, al- 
 ways providing the money before he purchased any 
 thing; and, if possible, paying in gold and silver. He 
 had a great dislike to paper money, and seldom went 
 without a considerable sum in gold al)out him. On my 
 observing that it was a wonder he had never been way- 
 laid and robbed, the young fellow smiled at the idea 
 of any one venturing upon such an exploit, for I be- 
 lieve he thinks the old man would be a match for Robin 
 Hood and all his o^anc^. 
 
 I have noticed that Master Simon seldom goes into 
 any house without having a world of private talk with 
 some one or other of the family, being a kind of uni- 
 versal counselor and confidant. We had not been long 
 at the farm, before the old dame got him into a corner 
 of her parlor, where they had a long, whispering con- 
 ference together; in which I saw by his shrugs that 
 there were some dubious matters discussed, and by his 
 nods that he agreed with every thing she said. 
 
 After we had come out, the young man accompanied 
 us a little distance, and then, drawing Master Simon 
 aside into a green lane, they walked and talked together 
 for nearly half an hour. Master Simon, who has the 
 usual propensity of confidants to blab every thing to 
 the next friend they meet with, let me know that there 
 was a love affair in question ; the young fellow having 
 been smitten with the charms of Phoebe Wilkins, the 
 
44 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 pretty niece of the housekeeper at the Hall. Like most 
 other love concerns, it had brought its troubles and per- 
 plexities. Dame Tibbets had lonp; been on intimate, 
 gossiping terms with the housekeeper, who often 
 visited the farm-house; but when the neighbors spoke 
 to her of the likelihood of a match between her son 
 and Phoebe Wilkins, "Marry come up!" she scouted 
 the very idea. The girl had acted as lady's maid, and 
 it was beneath the blood of the Tibbets, who had lived 
 on their own lands time out of mind, and owed rever- 
 ence and thanks to nobody, to have the heir-apparent 
 marry a servant! 
 
 These vaporings had faithfully been carried to the 
 housekeeper's ear, by one of their mutual, go-between 
 friends. The old housekeeper's blood, if not as an- 
 cient, w^as as quick as that of Dame Tibbets. She had 
 been accustomed to carry a high head at the Hall, and 
 among the villagers; and her faded brocade rustled 
 with indignation at the slight cast upon her alliance by 
 the wife of a petty farmer. She maintained that her 
 niece had been a companion rather than a waiting- 
 maid to the young ladies. "Thank heavens, she was 
 not obliged to work for her living, and was as idle as 
 any young lady in the land ; and when somebody died, 
 w^ould receive something that would be worth the notice 
 of some folks, with all their ready money." 
 
 A bitter feud had thus taken place between the two 
 worthy dames, and the young people were forbidden 
 to think of one another. As to young Jack, he was too 
 much in love to reason upon the matter; and being a 
 little heady, and not standing in much awe of his mother, 
 was ready to sacrifice the whole dignity of the Tibbets 
 to his passion. He had lately, however, had a violent 
 
FALCONJIY 45 
 
 quarrel with his mistress, in consequence of some co- 
 quetry on her part, and at present stood aloof. The 
 poHtic mother was exerting all her ingenuity to widen 
 this accidental breach; but, as is most commonly the 
 case, the more she meddled with this perverse incli- 
 nation of her son, the stronger it grew. In the mean- 
 time Old Ready-Money was kept completely in the 
 dark; both parties were in awe and uncertainty as to 
 what might be his way of taking the matter, and dreaded 
 to awaken the sleeping lion. Between father and son, 
 therefore, the worthy Mrs. Tibbets was full of busi- 
 ness, and at her wit's end. It is true there was no great 
 danger of honest Ready-Money's finding the thing out, 
 if left to himself, for he was of a most unsuspicious 
 temper, and by no means quick of apprehension; but 
 there was daily risk of his attention being aroused 
 by those cobwebs which his indefatigable wife was 
 continually spinning about his nose. 
 
 Such is the distracted state of politics in the domes- 
 tic empire of Ready-Money Jack; which only shows 
 the intrigues and internal dangers to which the best 
 regulated governments are liable. In this perplexed 
 situation of their affairs, both mother and son have 
 applied to Master Simon for counsel; and, with all his 
 experience in meddling with other people's concerns, 
 he finds it an exceedingly difficult part to play, to 
 agree with both parties, seeing that their opinions and 
 wishes are so diametrically opposite. 
 
 FALCONRY 
 
 There are several grand sources of lamentation fur- 
 nished to the worthy Squire, by the improvement of 
 
46 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 society, and the grievous advancement of knowledge; 
 among which none, I beHeve, causes him more fre- 
 quent regret than the unfortunate invention of gun- 
 powder. To this he continually traces the decay of 
 some favorite custom, and, indeed, the general down- 
 fall of all chivalrous and romantic usa(j:es. "EnHish 
 soldiers," he says, " have never been the men they were 
 in the days of the cross-bow and the long-bow; when 
 they depended upon the strength of the arm, and the 
 English archer could draw a cloth-yard shaft to the 
 head. These were the times when, at the battles of 
 Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt, the French chivalry 
 was completely destroyed by the bowmen of England. 
 The yeomanry, too, have never been what they were, 
 when, in times of peace, they were constantly exercised 
 with the bow, and archery was a favorite holiday pas- 
 time," 
 
 Among the other evils which have followed in the 
 train of this fatal invention of gunpowder, the Squire 
 classes the total decline of the noble art of falconry. 
 " Shooting," he says, " is a skulking, treacherous, soli- 
 tary sport in comparison ; but hawking was a gallant, 
 open, sunshiny recreation; it was the generous sport 
 of hunting carried into the skies." 
 
 "It was, moreover," he says, "according to Braith- 
 waite, the stately amusement of ' high and mounting 
 spirits ' ; for, as the old Welsh proverb affirms, in those 
 times 'you might know a gentleman by his hawk, 
 horse, and greyhound/ Indeed, a cavalier was seldom 
 seen abroad without his hawk on his fist ; and even a 
 lady of rank did not think herself completely equipped, 
 in riding forth, unless she had her tassel-gentel held by 
 jesses on her delicate hand. It was thought in those 
 
FALCONRY 47 
 
 excellent days, according to an old writer, 'quite suf- 
 ficient for noblemen to winde their horn, and to carry 
 their hawke fair; and leave study and learning to the 
 children of mean people.'" 
 
 Knowing the good Squire's hobby, therefore, I have 
 not been surprised at finding that, among the various 
 recreations of former times which he has endeavored 
 to revive in the little world in which he rules, he has 
 bestowed great attention on the noble art of falconry. 
 In this he, of course, has been seconded by his inde- 
 fatigable coadjutor. Master Simon; and even the par- 
 son has thrown considerable light on their labors, by 
 various hints on the subject, which he has met with 
 in old English works. As to the precious work of that 
 famous dame, Juliana Barnes ; the Gentleman s Acad- 
 emie, by Markham; and the other well-known trea- 
 tises that were the manuals of ancient sportsmen, they 
 have them at their fingers' ends; but they have more 
 especially studied some old tapestry in the house, 
 whereon is represented a party of cavaliers and stately 
 dames, with doublets, caps, and flaunting feathers, 
 mounted on horse, with attendants on foot, all in ani- 
 mated pursuit of the game. 
 
 The Squire has discountenanced the killing of any 
 hawks in his neighborhood, but gives a liberal bounty 
 for all that are brought him alive; so that the Hall is 
 well stocked with all kinds of birds of prey. On these 
 he and Master Simon have exhausted their patience 
 and ingenuity, endeavoring to "reclaim" them, as it is 
 termed, and to train them up for the sport ; but they have 
 met with continual checks and disappointments. Their 
 feathered school has turned out the most untractable 
 and graceless scholars : nor is it the least of their labor 
 
48 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 to drill the retainers who were to act as ushers under 
 them, and to take immediate charge of these refractory 
 birds. Old Christy and the gamekeeper both, for a time, 
 set their faces against the whole plan of education; 
 Christy having been nettled at hearing what he terms 
 a wild-goose chase put on a par with a fox-hunt; and 
 the gamekeeper having always been accustomed to look 
 upon hawks as arrant poachers, which it was his duty 
 to shoot down, and nail, i?i icrrorcm, against the out- 
 houses. 
 
 Christy has at length taken the matter in hand, but 
 has done still more mischief by his intermeddling. 
 He is as positive and wrong-headed about this, as he is 
 about hunting. Master Simon has continual disputes 
 with him as to feeding and training the hawks. He reads 
 to him long passages from the old authors I have men- 
 tioned; but Christy, who cannot read, has a sovereign 
 contempt for all book-knowledge, and persists in treat- 
 ing the hawks according to his own notions, which are 
 drawn from his experience, in younger days, in the 
 rearing of game-cocks. 
 
 The consequence is, that, between these jarring 
 systems, the poor birds have had a most trying and 
 unhappy time of it. Many have fallen victims to Chris- 
 ty's feeding and Master Simon's physicking; for the 
 latter has gone to work secundcm artcm, and has given 
 them all the vomitings and scourings laid down in the 
 books; never were poor hawks so fed and physicked 
 before. Others have been lost by being but half "re- 
 claimed," or tamed : for on being taken into the field, 
 they have "raked" after the game quite out of hear- 
 ing of the call, and never returned to school. 
 
 All these disappointments had been petty, yet sore 
 
FALCONRY 49 
 
 grievances to the Squire, and had made him to despond 
 about success. He has lately, however, been made 
 happy by the receipt of a fine Welsh falcon, which 
 Master Simon terms a stately highflyer. It is a present 
 from the Squire's friend. Sir Watkyn Williams WVnne; 
 and is, no doubt, a descendant of some ancient line of 
 Welsh princes of the air, that have long lorded it over 
 their kingdom of clouds, from Wynnstay to the very 
 summit of Snowden, or the brow of Penmanmawr. 
 
 Ever since the Squire received this invaluable pre- 
 sent, he has been as impatient to sally forth and make 
 proof of it, as was Don Quixote to assay his suit of ar- 
 mor. There have been some demurs as to whether the 
 bird was in proper health and training ; but these have 
 been overruled by the vehement desire to play with a 
 new toy; and it has been determined, right or wrong, 
 in season or out of season, to have a day's sport in 
 hawking to-morrow. 
 
 The Hall, as usual, whenever the Squire is about 
 to make some new sally on his hobby, is all agog with 
 the thing. Miss Templeton, who is brought up in rev- 
 erence for all her guardian's humors, has proposed 
 to be of the party, and Lady Lillycraft has talked also 
 of riding out to the scene of action and looking on. 
 This has gratified the old gentleman extremely; he 
 hails it as an auspicious omen of the revival of fal- 
 conry, and does not despair but the time will come when 
 it will be again the pride of a fine lady to carry about 
 a noble falcon in preference to a parrot or a lap-dog. 
 
 I have amused myself with the bustling preparations 
 of that busy spirit. Master Simon, and the continual 
 thwartings he receives from that genuine son of a pep- 
 per-box, old Christy. They have had half a dozen con- 
 
50 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 sultations about how the hawk is to be prepared for 
 the morning's sport. Old Nimrod, as usual, has always 
 got in a pet, upon which Master Simon has invariably 
 given up the point, observing, in a good-humored tone, 
 " Well, well, have it your own way, Christy; only don't 
 put yourself in a passion" ; a reply which always nettles 
 the old man ten times more than ever. 
 
 HAWKING 
 
 At an early hour this morning the Hall was in a 
 bustle, preparing for the sport of the day. I heard 
 Master Simon whistling and singing under my win- 
 dow at sunrise, as he was preparing the jesses for the 
 hawk's legs, and could distinguish now and then a 
 stanza of one of his favorite old ditties : — 
 
 "In peascod time, when hound to horn 
 Gives note that buck be kill'd; 
 And Httle boy with pipe of corn 
 Is tending sheep a-field," etc. 
 
 A hearty breakfast, well flanked by cold meats, was 
 served up in the great hall. The whole garrison of re- 
 tainers and hangers-on were in motion, reinforced by 
 volunteer idlers from the village. The horses were led 
 up and down before the door ; every body had some- 
 thing to say, and something to do, and hurried hither 
 and thither ; there was a direful yelping of dogs ; some 
 that were to accompany us being eager to set off, and 
 others that were to stay at home being whipped back 
 to their kennels. In short, for once, the good Squire's 
 mansion might have been taken as a good specimen 
 of one of the rantipole establishments of the good old 
 feudal times. 
 
HAWKING 51 
 
 Breakfast being finished, the chivalry of the Hall pre- 
 pared to take the field. The fair Julia was of the party, 
 in a hunting-dress, with a light plume of feathers in her 
 riding-hat. As she mounted her favorite galloway, I 
 remarked, with pleasure, that old Christy forgot his 
 usual crustiness, and hastened to adjust her saddle 
 and bridle. He touched his cap as she smiled on him 
 and thanked him ; and then, looking round at the other 
 attendants, gave a knowing nod of his head, in which 
 I read pride and exultation at the charming appear- 
 ance of his pupil. 
 
 Lady Lillycraft had likewise determined to witness 
 the sport. She was dressed in her broad white beaver, 
 tied under the chin, and a riding-habit of the last 
 century. She rode her sleek, ambling pony, whose mo- 
 tion was as easy as a rocking-chair, and was gallantly 
 escorted by the general, who looked not unlike one of 
 the doughty heroes in the old prints of the battle of 
 Blenheim. The parson, likewise, accompanied her on 
 the other side; for this was a learned amusement in 
 which he took great interest; and indeed, had given 
 much counsel, from his knowledge of old customs. 
 
 At length every thing was arranged, and off we set 
 from the Hall, The exercise on horseback puts one 
 in fine spirits; and the scene was gay and animating. 
 The young men of the family accompanied Miss Tem- 
 pleton. She sat lightly and gracefully in her saddle, her 
 plumes dancing and waving in the air; and the group 
 had a charming effect as they appeared and disap- 
 peared among the trees, cantering along, with the 
 bounding animation of youth. The Squire and Master 
 Simon rode together, accompanied by old Christy, 
 mounted on Pepper. The latter bore the hawk on his 
 
52 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 fist, as he insisted the bird was most accustomed to 
 him. There was a rabble rout on foot, composed of 
 retainers from the Hall, and some idlers from the vil- 
 lage, with two or three spaniels, for the purpose of 
 starting the game. 
 
 A kind of corps de reserve came on quietly in the 
 rear, composed of Lady Lillycraft, General Harbottle, 
 the parson, and a fat footman. Her ladyship ambled 
 gently along on her pony, while the general, mounted 
 on a tall hunter, looked down upon her with an air of 
 the most protecting gallantry. 
 
 For my part, being no sportsman, I kept with this 
 last party, or rather lagged behind, that I might take 
 in the whole picture; and the parson occasionally 
 slackened his pace and jogged on in company with me. 
 
 The sport led us at some distance from the Hall, in 
 a soft meadow, reeking with the moist verdure of 
 spring. A little river ran through it, bordered by wil- 
 lows, which had put forth their tender early foliage. 
 The sportsmen were in quest of herons which were 
 said to keep about this stream. 
 
 There was some disputing, already, among the lead- 
 ers of the sport. The Squire, Master Simon, and old 
 Christy, came every now and then to a pause, to con- 
 sult together, like the field-officers in an army; and I 
 saw, by certain motions of the head, that Christy was 
 as positive as any old wrong-headed German com- 
 mander. 
 
 As we were prancing up this quiet meadow every 
 sound we made was answered by a distinct echo from 
 the sunny wall of an old building on the opposite mar- 
 gin of the stream ; and I paused to listen to this " spirit 
 of a sound," which seems to love such quiet and beau- 
 
HAWKING 53 
 
 tiful places. The parson informed me that this was 
 the ruin of an ancient grange, and was supposed, by 
 the country people, to be haunted by a dobbie, a kind 
 of rural sprite, something like Robin Good-fellow. 
 They often fancied the echo to be the voice of the dob- 
 bie answering them, and were rather shy of disturbing 
 it after dark. He added, that the Squire was very care- 
 ful of this ruin, on account of the superstition connected 
 with it. As I considered this local habitation of an 
 "airy nothing," I called to mind the fine description 
 of an echo in Webster's Duchess of Maify : 
 
 " Yond side o' th' river lies a wall. 
 
 Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion 
 Gives the best echo that you ever heard: 
 So plain is the distinction of our words, 
 That many have supposed it a spirit 
 That answers." 
 
 The parson went on to comment on a pleasing and 
 fanciful appellation which the Jews of old gave to the 
 echo, which they called Bath-kool, that is to say, "the 
 daughter of the voice"; they considered it an oracle, 
 supplying in the second temple the want of the urim 
 and thummim, with which the first was honored. The 
 little man was just entering very largely and learn- 
 edly upon the subject, w^hen we were started by a pro- 
 digious bawling, shouting, and yelping. A flight of 
 crows, alarmed by the approach of our forces, had sud- 
 denly rose from a meadow ; a cry was put up by the rab- 
 ble rout on foot. " Now, Christy ! now is your time, 
 Christy!" The Squire and Master Simon, who were 
 beating up the river banks in quest of a heron, called 
 out eagerly to Christy to keep quiet; the old man, 
 vexed and bewildered by the confusion of voices, com- 
 
54 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 pletely lost his head; in his flurry he sHpped off the 
 hood, cast off the falcon, and away flew the crows, and 
 away soared the hawk. 
 
 I had paused on a rising ground, close to Lady Lilly- 
 craft and her escort, whence I had a good view of the 
 sport. I was pleased with the appearance of the party 
 in the meadow, riding along in the direction that the 
 bird flew; their bright beaming faces turned up to the 
 bright skies as they w^atched the game ; the attendants 
 on foot scampering along, looking up, and calling out; 
 and the dogs bounding and yelping with clamorous 
 sympathy. 
 
 The hawk had singled out a quarry from among the 
 carrion crew. It was curious to see the efl'orts of the 
 two birds to get above each other; one to make the 
 fatal swoop, the other to avoid it. Now they crossed 
 athwart a bright feathery cloud, and now they were 
 against a clear blue sky. I confess, being no sports- 
 man, I was more interested for the poor bird that was 
 striving for its life, than for the hawk that was playing 
 the part of a mercenary soldier. At length the hawk 
 got the upper hand, and made a rushing stoop at her 
 quarry, but the latter made as sudden a surge down- 
 wards, and slanting up again, evaded the blow, scream- 
 ing and making the best of his way for a dry tree on 
 the brow of a neighboring hill; while the haw^k, disap- 
 pointed of her blow, soared up again into the air, and 
 appeared to be " raking" off. It was in vain old Christy 
 called, and whistled, and endeavored to lure her down; 
 she paid no regard to him: and, indeed, his calls were 
 drowned in the shouts and yelps of the army of militia 
 that had followed him into the field. 
 
 Just then an exclamation from Lady Lillycraft made 
 
HAWKING 55 
 
 me turn my head. I beheld a complete confusion 
 among the sportsmen in the little vale below us. They 
 were galloping and running towards the edge of a 
 bank; and I was shocked to see Miss Templeton's 
 horse galloping at large without his rider. I rode to 
 the place to which the others were hurrying, and when 
 I reached the bank, which almost overhung the stream, 
 I saw at the foot of it, the fair Julia, pale, bleeding, 
 and apparently lifeless, supported in the arms of her 
 frantic lover. 
 
 In galloping heedlessly along, with her eyes turned 
 upward, she had unwarily approached too near the 
 bank ; it had given way with her, and she and her horse 
 had been precipitated to the pebbled margin of the 
 river. 
 
 I never saw greater consternation. The captain was 
 distracted ; Lady Lillycraft fainting, the Squire in dis- 
 may, and Master Simon at his wit's ends. The beauti- 
 ful creature at length showed signs of returning life; 
 she opened her eyes ; looked around her upon the anx- 
 ious group, and comprehending in a moment the nature 
 of the scene, gave a sweet smile, and putting her hand 
 in her lover's, exclaimed feebly, " I am not much hurt, 
 Guy!" I could have taken her to my heart for that 
 single exclamation. 
 
 It was found, indeed, that she had escaped almost 
 miraculously, with a contusion of the head, a sprained 
 ankle, and some slight bruises. After her wound was 
 stanched, she was taken to a neighboring cottage, until 
 a carriage could be summoned to convey her home; 
 and when this had arrived, the cavalcade, which had 
 issued forth so gayly on this enterprise, returned slowly 
 and pensively to the Hall. 
 
56 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 I had been charmed by the generous spirit shown 
 by this young creature, who, amidst pain and danger, 
 had been anxious only to reheve the distress of those 
 around her. I was gratified, therefore, by the universal 
 concern displayed by the domestics on our return. 
 They came crowding doM n the avenue, each eager to 
 render assistance. The butler stood ready with some 
 curiously delicate cordial; the old housekeeper was 
 provided with half a dozen nostrums, prepared by her 
 own hands, according to the family receipt-book; 
 while her niece, the melting Phoebe, having no other 
 way of assisting, stood wringing her hands, and weep- 
 ing aloud. 
 
 The most material effect that is likely to follow this 
 accident, is a postponement of the nuptials, which were 
 close at hand. Though 1 commiserate the imj)atience 
 of the captain on that account, yet I shall not otherwise 
 be sorry at the delay, as it will give me a better oppor- 
 tunity of studying the characters here assembled, with 
 which I grow more and more entertained. 
 
 I cannot but perceive that the worthy Squire is 
 quite disconcerted at the unlucky result of his hawking 
 experiment, and this unfortunate illustration of his 
 eulogy on female equitation. Old Christy, too, is very 
 waspish, having been sorely twitted by Master Simon 
 for having let his hawk fly at carrion. As to the falcon, 
 in the confusion occasioned by the fair Julia's disaster, 
 the bird was totally forgotten. I make no doubt she 
 has made the best of her way back to the hospitable 
 hall of Sir Watkyn ^Yilliams Wynne; and may very 
 possibly, at this present writing, be pluming her wings 
 among the breezy bowers of Wynnstay. 
 
FORTUNE-TELLING 67 
 
 FORTUNE-TELLING 
 
 As I was walking one evening with the Oxonian, 
 Master Simon, and the general, in a meadow not far 
 from the village, w^e heard the sound of a fiddle, rudely 
 played, and looking in the direction whence it came, 
 we saw a thread of smoke curling up from among the 
 trees. The sound of music is always attractive; for, 
 wherever there is music, there is good humor, or good- 
 will. We passed along a footpath, and had a peep, 
 through a break in the hedge, at the musician and 
 his party, when the Oxonian gave us a wink, and told 
 us that if we would follow him we should have some 
 sport. 
 
 It proved to he a gipsy encampment, consisting of 
 three or four little cabins, or tents, made of blankets 
 and sail-cloth, spread over hoops stuck in the ground. 
 It was on one side of a green lane, close under a haw- 
 thorn hedge, with a broad beech-tree spreading above 
 it. A small rill tinkled along close by, through the fresh 
 sward, that looked like a carpet. 
 
 A tea-kettle was hanging by a crooked piece of iron, 
 over a fire made from dry sticks and leaves, and two 
 old gipsies, in red cloaks, sat crouched on the grass, 
 gossiping over their evening cup of tea ; for these crea- 
 tures, though they live in the open air, have their ideas 
 of fireside comforts. There were two or three children 
 sleeping on the straw with which the tents were littered ; 
 a couple of donkeys were grazing in the lane, and a 
 thievish-looking dog was lying before the fire. Some 
 of the younger gipsies were dancing to the music of a 
 fiddle, played by a tall, slender stripling, in an old frock 
 coat, with a peacock'^ feather stuck in his hat-band. 
 
58 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 As we approached, a gipsy girl, with a pair of fine 
 roguish eyes, came up, and, as usual, otl'ered to tell our 
 fortunes. I could not but admire a certain degree of 
 slattern elegance about the baggage. Her long black 
 silken hair was curiously plaited in numerous small 
 braids, and negligently put up in a picturesque style 
 that a painter might have been proud to have devised. 
 Her dress was of figured chintz, rather ragged, and not 
 over clean, but of a variety of most harmonious and 
 agreeable colors; for these beings have a singularly 
 fine eye for colors. Her straw hat was in her hand, and 
 a red cloak thrown over one arm. 
 
 The Oxonian offered at once to have his fortune 
 told, and the girl began with the usual volubility of 
 her race ; but he drew her on one side, near the hedge, 
 as he said he had no idea of having his secrets over- 
 heard. I saw he was talking to her instead of she to 
 him, and by his glancing towards us now and then, that 
 he was giving the baggage some private hints. When 
 they returned to us, he assumed a very serious air. 
 "Zounds!" said he, "it's very astonishing how these 
 creatures come by their knowledge ; this girl has told me 
 some things that I thought no one knew but myself ! '* 
 
 The girl now assailed the general: "Come, your 
 honor," said she, "I see by your face you're a lucky 
 man ; but you 're not happy in your mind ; you 're not, 
 indeed, sir : but have a good heart, and give me a good 
 piece of silver, and I'll tell you a nice fortune." 
 
 The general had received all her approaches with a 
 banter, and had suffered her to get hold of his hand ; 
 but at the mention of the piece of silver, he hemmed, 
 looked grave, and turning to us, asked if w^e had not 
 better continue our walk. " Come, my master," said the 
 
FORTUNE-TELLING 59 
 
 girl, archly, "you'd not be in such a hurry, if you 
 knew all that I could tell you about a fair lady that has 
 a notion for you. Come, sir, old love burns strong; 
 there 's many a one comes to see weddings that go away 
 brides themselves!" — Here the girl whispered some- 
 thing in a low voice, at which the general colored up, 
 was a little fluttered, and suffered himself to be drawn 
 aside under the hedge, where he appeared to listen to 
 her with great earnestness, and at the end paid her 
 half-a-crown with the air of a man that has got the 
 worth of his money. 
 
 The girl next made her attack upon Master Simon, 
 who, however, was too old a bird to be caught, knowing 
 that it would end in an attack upon his purse, about 
 which he is a little sensitive. As he has a great notion, 
 however, of being considered a royster, he chucked her 
 under the chin, played her off with rather broad jokes, 
 and put on something of the rake-helly air, that we see 
 now and then assumed on the stage, by the sad-boy 
 gentlemen of the old school. "Ah, your honor," said 
 the girl, with a malicious leer, "you were not in such 
 a tantrum last year, when I told you about the widow 
 you know who; but if you had taken a friend's advice, 
 you'd never have come away from Doncaster races 
 with a flea in your ear!" 
 
 There was a secret sting in this speech that seemed 
 quite to disconcert Master Simon. He jerked away his 
 hand in a pet, smacked his whip, whistled to his dogs, 
 and intimated that it was high time to go home. The 
 girl, however, was determined not to lose her harvest. 
 She now turned upon me, and, as I have a weakness 
 of spirit where there is a pretty face concerned, she 
 soon wheedled me out of my money, and, in return, 
 
60 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 read me a fortune; which, if it prove true, and I am 
 determined to beheve it, will make me one of the luck- 
 iest men in the clironicles of Cupid. 
 
 I saw that the Oxonian was at the bottom of all this 
 oracular mystery, and was disposed to amuse himself 
 with the general, whose tender approaches to the 
 widow have attracted the notice of the wag. I was a 
 little curious, however, to know the meaning of the 
 dark hints which had so suddenly disconcerted Master 
 Simon ; and took occasion to fall in the rear with the 
 Oxonian on our way home, when he laughed heartily 
 at my questions, and gave me ample information on the 
 subject. 
 
 The truth of the matter is, that Master Simon has 
 met with a sad rebuff since my Christmas visit to the 
 Hall. He used at that time to be joked about a widow, 
 a fine dashing woman, as he privately informed me. I 
 had supposed the pleasure he betrayed on these occa- 
 sions resulted from the usual fondness of old bachelors 
 for being teased about getting married, and about 
 flirting, and being fickle and false-hearted. I am 
 assured, however, that Master Simon had really per- 
 suaded himself the widow had a kindness for him ; in 
 consequence of which he had been at some extraor- 
 dinary expense in new clothes, and had actually got 
 Frank Bracebridge to order him a coat from Stultz. He 
 began to throw out hints about the importance of a 
 man's settling himself in life before he grew old; he 
 would look grave whenever the widow and matrimony 
 were mentioned in the same sentence; and privately 
 asked the opinion of the Squire and parson about the 
 prudence of marrying a widow with a rich jointure, 
 but who had several children. 
 
FORTUNE-TELLING 61 
 
 An important member of a great family connection 
 cannot harp much upon the theme of matrimony with- 
 out its taking wind ; and it soon got buzzed about that 
 Mr. Simon Bracebridge was actually gone to Doncaster 
 races, with a new horse; but that he meant to return 
 in a curricle with a lady by his side. Master Simon did, 
 indeed, go to the races, and that with a new horse; and 
 the dashing widow did make her appearance in her 
 curricle; but it was unfortunately driven by a strapping 
 young Irish dragoon, with whom even Master Simon's 
 self-complacency would not allow him to venture into 
 competition, and to whom she was married shortly 
 afterwards. 
 
 It was a matter of sore chagrin to Master Simon for 
 several months, having never before been fully com- 
 mitted. The dullest head in the family had a joke upon 
 him ; and there is no one that likes less to be bantered 
 than an absolute joker. He took refuge for a time at 
 Lady Lillycraft's until the matter should blow over; 
 and occupied himself by looking over her accounts, 
 regulating the village choir, and inculcating loyalty 
 into a pet bullfinch, by teaching him to whistle " God 
 save the King." 
 
 He has now pretty nearly recovered from the morti- 
 fication ; holds up his head, and laughs as much as any 
 one ; again affects to pity married men, and is particu- 
 larly facetious about widows, when Lady Lillycraft is 
 not by. His only time of trial is when the general gets 
 hold of him, who is infinitely heavy and persevering in 
 his waggery, and will interweave a dull joke through 
 the various topics of a whole dinner-time. 
 
62 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 GIPSIES 
 
 Since the meeting with the gipsies, which I have 
 related in a former paper, I have observed several of 
 them haunting the purlieus of the Hall, notwithstanding 
 a positive interdiction of the Squire. They are part of 
 a gang w^hich has long kept about this neighborhood 
 to the great annoyance of the farmers, w^hose poultry- 
 yards often suffer from their nocturnal invasions. They 
 are, however, in some measure, patronized by the 
 Squire, who considers the race as belonging to the good 
 old times ; which, to confess the private truth, seem to 
 have abounded with good-for-nothing characters. 
 
 This roving crew is called " Star-light Tom's Gang," 
 from the name of its chieftain, a notorious poacher. 
 I have heard repeatedly of the misdeeds of this " minion 
 of the moon"; for every midnight depredation in park, 
 or fold, or farm-yard, is laid to his charge. Star-light 
 Tom, in fact, answers to his name; he seems to walk 
 in darkness, and, like a fox, to be traced in the morning 
 by the mischief he has done. He reminds me of that 
 fearful personage in the nursery rhyme: 
 
 "Who goes round the house at night? 
 None but bloody Tom! 
 Who steals all the sheep at night? 
 None but one by one ! " 
 
 In short, Star-light Tom is the scape-goat of the neigh- 
 borhood; but so cunning and adroit, that there is no 
 detecting him. Old Christy and the game-keeper have 
 watched many a night in hopes of entrapping him; 
 and Christy often patrols the park with his dogs, for 
 the purpose, but all in vain. It is said that the Squire 
 winks hard at his misdeeds, having an indulgent feeling 
 
GIPSIES 63 
 
 towards the vagabond, because of his being very expert 
 at all kinds of games, a great shot with the cross-bow, 
 and the best morris-dancer in the country. 
 
 The Squire also suffers the gang to lurk unmolested 
 about the skirts of his estate, on condition they do not 
 come about the house. The approaching wedding, 
 however, has made a kind of Saturnalia at the Hall, 
 and has caused a suspension of all sober rule. It has 
 produced a great sensation throughout the female 
 part of the household ; not a housemaid but dreams of 
 wedding favors, and has a husband running in her 
 head. Such a time is a harvest for the gipsies : there is 
 a public footpath leading across one part of the park, 
 by which they have free ingress, and they are continually 
 hovering about the grounds, telling the servant-girls' 
 fortunes, or getting smuggled in to the young ladies. 
 
 I believe the Oxonian amuses himself very much by 
 furnishing them with hints in private, and bewildering 
 all the weak brains in the house with their wonderful 
 revelations. The general certainly was very much 
 astonished by the communications made to him the 
 other evening by the gipsy girl : he kept a wary silence 
 towards us on the subject, and affected to treat it 
 lightly ; but I have noticed that he has since redoubled 
 his attentions to Lady Lillycraft and her dogs. 
 
 I have seen also Phoebe Wilkins, the housekeeper's 
 pretty and love-sick niece, holding a long conference 
 with one of these old sibyls behind a large tree in the 
 avenue, and often looking round to see that she was not 
 observed. I make no doubt she was endeavoring to get 
 some favorable augury about the result of her love- 
 quarrel with young Ready-Money, as oracles have 
 always been more consulted on love-affairs than upon 
 
64 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 any thing else. I fear, however, that in this instance 
 the response was not so favorable as usual, for I per- 
 ceived poor Phoebe returning pensively towards the 
 house; her head hanging down, her hat in her hand, 
 and the ribbon trailing along the ground. 
 
 At another time, as I turned a corner of a terrace, 
 at the bottom of the garden, just by a clump of trees, 
 and a large stone urn, I came upon a bevy of the young 
 girls of the family, attended by this same Phoebe Wil- 
 kins. I was at a loss to comprehend the meaning of 
 their blushing and giggling, and their apparent agita- 
 tion, until I saw the red cloak of a gipsy vanishing 
 among the shrubbery. A few moments after I caught a 
 sight of Master Simon and the Oxonian stealing along 
 one of the walks of the garden, chuckling and laughing 
 at their successful waggery; having evidently put the 
 gipsy up to the thing, and instructed her what to say. 
 
 After all, there is something strangely pleasing in 
 these tamperings with the future, even where we are 
 convinced of the fallacy of the prediction. It is singular 
 how willingly the mind will half deceive itself; and with 
 a degree of awe we will listen even to these babblers 
 about futurity. For my part, I cannot feel angry with 
 these poor vagabonds, that seek to deceive us into 
 bright hopes and expectations. I have always been 
 something of a castle-builder, and have found my live- 
 liest pleasures to arise from the illusions which fancy 
 has cast over commonplace realities. As I get on in 
 life, I find it more difficult to deceive myself in this 
 delightful manner; and I should be thankful to any 
 prophet, however false, who would conjure the clouds 
 which hang over futurity into palaces, and all its doubt- 
 ful regions into fairy-land. 
 
GIPSIES 65 
 
 The Squire, who, as I have observed, has a private 
 good-will towards gipsies, has suffered considerable 
 annoyance on their account. Not that they requite his 
 indulgence with ingratitude, for they do not depredate 
 very flagrantly on his estate; but because their pilfer- 
 ings and misdeeds occasion loud murmurs in the vil- 
 lage. I can readily understand the old gentleman's 
 humor on this point; I have a great toleration for all 
 kinds of vagrant sunshiny existence, and must confess 
 I take a pleasure in observing the ways of gipsies. The 
 English, who are accustomed to them from childhood, 
 and often suffer from their petty depredations, consider 
 them as mere nuisances; but I have been very much 
 struck with their peculiarities. I like to behold their 
 clear olive complexions; their romantic black eyes; 
 their raven locks; their lithe slender figures; and to 
 hear them, in low silver tones, dealing forth magnifi- 
 cent promises of honors and estates ; of world's wealth, 
 and ladies' love. 
 
 Their mode of life, too, has something in it very fanci- 
 ful and picturesque. They are the free denizens of nature, 
 and maintain a primitive independence, in spite of law 
 and gospel; of county jails and country magistrates. 
 It is curious to see this obstinate adherence to the wild 
 unsettled habits of savage life transmitted from genera- 
 tion to generation, and preserved in the midst of one 
 of the most cultivated, populous, and systematic coun- 
 tries in the world. They are totally distinct from the 
 busy, thrifty people about them. They seem to be, like 
 the Indians of America, either above or below the 
 ordinary cares and anxieties of mankind. Heedless 
 of power, of honors, of wealth ; and indifferent to the 
 fluctuations of times ; the rise or fall of grain, or stock, 
 
66 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 or empires, they seem to laugh at the toiHng, fretting 
 world around them, and to live according to the phi- 
 losophy of the old song: 
 
 "Who would am})ition shun, 
 And loves to lie i' the sun, 
 Seeking the food he eats. 
 And pleased with what he gets. 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither; 
 
 Here shall he see 
 
 No enemy. 
 But winter and rough weather." 
 
 In this way they wander from county to county; 
 keeping about the purlieus of villages, or in plenteous 
 neighborhoods, where there are fat farms and rich 
 country-seats. Their encampments are generally made 
 in some beautiful spot; either a green shady nook of 
 a road ; or on the border of a common, under a shelter- 
 ing hedge; or on the skirts of a fine spreading wood. 
 They are always to be found lurking about fairs, and 
 races, and rustic gatherings, wherever there is plea- 
 sure, and throng, and idleness. They are the oracles 
 of milkmaids and simple serving-girls ; and sometimes 
 have even the honor of perusing the white hands of 
 gentlemen's daughters, when rambling about their 
 fathers' grounds. They are the bane of good house- 
 wives and thrifty farmers, and odious in the eyes of 
 country justices; but, like all other vagabond beings, 
 they have. something to commend them to the fancy. 
 They are among the last traces, in these matter-of-fact 
 days, of the motley population of former times; and 
 are whimsically associated in my mind with fairies and 
 witches, Robin Good-fellow, Robin Hood, and the 
 other fantastical personages of poetry. 
 
VILLAGE WORTHIES 67 
 
 VILLAGE WORTHIES 
 
 As the neighboring village is one of those out-of-the- 
 way, but gossiping Httle places where a small matter 
 makes a great stir, it is not to be supposed that the 
 approach of a festival like that of May-day can be 
 regarded with indifference, especially since it is made 
 a matter of such moment by the great folks at the Hall. 
 Master Simon, who is the faithful factotum of the 
 worthy Squire, and jumps with his humor in every 
 thing, is frequent just now in his visits to the village, 
 to give directions for the impending fete; and as I have 
 taken the liberty occasionally of accompanying him, I 
 have been enabled to get some insight into the char- 
 acters and internal politics of this very sagacious little 
 community. 
 
 Master Simon is in fact the Caesar of the village. It 
 is true the Squire is the protecting power, but his fac- 
 totum is the active and busy agent. He intermeddles 
 in all its concerns; is acquainted with all the inhabit- 
 ants and their domestic historv; gives counsel to the 
 old folks in their business matters, and the young folks 
 in their love affairs ; and enjoys the proud satisfaction 
 of being a great man in a little world. 
 
 He is the dispenser, too, of the Squire's charity, which 
 is bounteous; and, to do Master Simon justice, he 
 performs this part of his functions with great alacrity. 
 Indeed, I have been entertained with the mixture of 
 bustle, importance, and kind-heartedness which he dis- 
 plays. He is of too vivacious a temperament to com- 
 fort the afl3icted by sitting down moping and whining 
 and blowing noses in concert ; but goes whisking about 
 like a sparrow, chirping consolation into every hole and 
 
68 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 corner of the village. I have seen an old woman, in a 
 red cloak, hold him for half an hour together with some 
 long phthisical tale of distress, which Master Simon 
 listened to with many a bob of the head, smack of his 
 dog-whip, and other symptoms of impatience, though 
 he aftersvards made a most faithful and circumstantial 
 report of the case to the Squire. I have watched him, 
 too, during one of his pop visits into the cottage of a 
 superannuated villager, who is a pensioner of the Squire, 
 where he fidgeted about the room without sitting down, 
 made many excellent off-hand reflections with the old 
 invalid, who was propped up in his chair, about the 
 shortness of life, the certainty of death, and the neces- 
 sity of preparing for "that awful change"; quoted 
 several texts of Scripture very incorrectly, but much to 
 the edification of the cottager's wife; and on coming 
 out pinched the daughter's rosy cheek, and wondered 
 what was in the young men, that such a pretty face did 
 not get a husband. 
 
 He has also his cabinet counselors in the village, with 
 whom he is very busy just now, preparing for the May- 
 day ceremonies. Among these is the village tailor, a 
 pale-faced fellow, who plays the clarinet in the church 
 choir; and, being a great musical genius, has frequent 
 meetings of the band at his house, where they " make 
 night hideous " by their concerts. He is, in consequence, 
 high in favor with Master Simon ; and, through his in- 
 fluence, has the making, or rather marring, of all the 
 liveries of the Hall, which generally look as though they 
 had been cut out by one of those scientific tailors of the 
 Flying Island of Laputa, who took measure of their 
 customers with a quadrant. The tailor, in fact, might 
 rise to be one of the moneyed men of the village, was 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER 69 
 
 he not rather too prone to gossip, and keep hoHdays, 
 and give concerts, and blow all his substance, real and 
 personal, through his clarinet; which literally keeps 
 him poor both in body and estate. He has for the pre- 
 sent thrown by all his regular work, and suffered the 
 breeches of the village to go unmade and unmended, 
 while he is occupied in making garlands of party- 
 colored rags, in imitation of flowers, for the decoration 
 of the May-pole. 
 
 Another of Master Simon's counselors is the apothe- 
 cary, a short, and rather fat man, with a pair of promi- 
 nent eyes, that diverge like those of a lobster. He is 
 the village wise man ; very sententious, and full of pro- 
 found remarks on shallow subjects. Master Simon 
 often quotes his sayings, and mentions him as rather 
 an extraordinary man; and even consults him occa- 
 sionally in desperate cases of the dogs and horses. In- 
 deed, he seems to have been overwhelmed by the apoth- 
 ecary's philosophy, which is exactly one observation 
 deep, consisting of indisputable maxims, such as may 
 be gathered from the mottoes of tobacco-boxes. I had 
 a specimen of his philosophy in my very first conversa- 
 tion with him; in the course of which he observed, 
 with great solemnity and emphasis, that "man is a 
 compound of wisdom and folly"; upon which Master 
 Simon, who had hold of my arm, pressed very hard 
 upon it, and whispered in my ear, "that's a devilish 
 shrewd remark.'* 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 Among the worthies of the village, that enjoy the 
 peculiar confidence of Master Simon, is one who has 
 
70 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 struck my fancy so much, that I have thought him 
 worthy of a separate notice. It is Slingsby, the school- 
 master, a thin elderly man, rather threadbare and 
 slovenly, somewhat indolent in manner, and with an 
 easy, good-humored look, not often met with in his 
 craft. I have been interested in his favor by a few 
 anecdotes which I have picked up concerning him. 
 
 He is a native of the village, and was a contemporary 
 and playmate of Ready-Money Jack in the days of their 
 boyhood. Indeed, they carried on a kind of league of 
 mutual good offices. Slingsby was rather puny, and 
 withal somewhat of a coward, but very apt at his learn- 
 ing : Jack, on the contrary, was a bully-boy out of doors, 
 but a sad laggard at his books. Slingsby helped Jack, 
 therefore, to all his lessons; Jack fought all Slingsby's 
 battles; and they were inseparable friends. This mu- 
 tual kindness continued even after they left the school, 
 notwithstanding the dissimilarity of their characters. 
 Jack took to ploughing and reaping, and prepared him- 
 self to till his paternal acres; while the other loitered 
 negligently on in the path of learning, until he pene- 
 trated even into the confines of Latin and Mathematics. 
 
 In an unlucky hour, however, he took to reading 
 voyages and travels, and was smitten with a desire to 
 see the world. This desire increased upon him as he 
 grew up; so, early one bright sunny morning, he put 
 all his effects in a knapsack, slung it on his back, took 
 staff in hand, and called in his way to take leave of his 
 early schoolmate. Jack was just going out with the 
 plough : the friends shook hands over the farm-house 
 gate; Jack drove his team a-field, and Slingsby whistled 
 " over the hills and far away," and salhed forth gayly 
 to "seek his fortune." 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER 71 
 
 Years and years passed by, and young Tom Slingsby 
 was forgotten; when, one mellow Sunday afternoon in 
 autumn, a thin man, somewhat advanced in life, with 
 a coat out at elbows, a pair of old nankeen gaiters, 
 and a few things tied in a handkerchief, and slung on 
 the end of a stick, was seen loitering through the vil- 
 lage. He appeared to regard several houses attentively, 
 to peer into the window^s that were open, to eye the 
 villagers wistfully as they returned from church, and 
 then to pass some time in the church-yard, reading the 
 tombstones. 
 
 At length he found his way to the farm-house of 
 Ready-Money Jack, but paused ere he attempted the 
 wicket; contemplating the picture of substantial in- 
 dependence before him. In the porch of the house sat 
 Ready-Money Jack, in his Sunday dress ; with his hat 
 upon his head, his pipe in his mouth, and his tankard 
 before him, the monarch of all he surveyed. Beside 
 him lay his fat house-dog. The varied sounds of poul- 
 try were heard from the well-stocked farm-yard; the 
 bees hummed from their hives in the garden ; the cattle 
 lowed in the rich meadow; while the crammed barns 
 and ample stacks bore proof of an abundant harvest. 
 
 The stranger opened the gate and advanced dubi- 
 ously toward the house. The mastiff growled at the sight 
 of the suspicious-looking intruder; but was immedi- 
 ately silenced by his master ; who, taking his pipe from 
 his mouth, awaited with inquiring aspect the address of 
 this equivocal personage. The stranger eyed old Jack 
 for a moment, so portly in his dimensions, and decked 
 out in gorgeous apparel; then cast a glance upon his 
 own threadbare and starveling condition, and the scanty 
 bundle which he held in his hand ; then giving his shrunk 
 
72 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 waistcoat a twitch to make it meet its receding waist- 
 band ; and casting another look, half sad, half humor- 
 ous, at the sturdy yeoman, " I suppose," said he, " Mr. 
 Tibbets,you have forgot old times and old playmates." 
 
 The latter gazed at him with scrutinizing look, but 
 acknowledged that he had no recollection of him. 
 
 "Like enough, like enough," said the stranger; 
 " every body seems to have forgotten poor Slingsby ! " 
 
 " Why no, sure ! it can't be Tom Slingsby ! " 
 
 "Yes, but it is, though!" replied the stranger, shak- 
 ing his head. 
 
 Ready-Money Jack was on his feet in a twinkling; 
 thrust out his hand, gave his ancient crony the gripe 
 of a giant, and slapping the other hand on a bench, 
 "Sit down there," cried he, "Tom Slingsby!" 
 
 A long conversation ensued about old times, while 
 Slingsby was regaled with the best cheer that the farm- 
 house afforded ; for he was hungry as well as wa}'Worn, 
 and had the keen appetite of a poor pedestrian. The 
 early playmates then talked over their subsequent lives 
 and adventures. Jack had but little to relate and was 
 never good at a long story. A prosperous life, passed 
 at home, has little incident for narrative ; it is only poor 
 devils, that are tossed about the world, that are the true 
 heroes of story. Jack had stuck by the paternal farm, 
 followed the same plough that his forefathers had 
 driven, and had waxed richer and richer as he grew 
 older. As to Tom Slingsby, he was an exemplification 
 of the old proverb, " a rolling stone gathers no moss." 
 He had sought his fortune about the world, without 
 ever finding it, being a thing of tener found at home than 
 abroad. He had been in all kinds of situations, and 
 had learnt a dozen different modes of making a living; 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER 73 
 
 but had found his way back to his native village rather 
 poorer than when he left it, his knapsack having dwin- 
 dled down to a scanty bundle. 
 
 As luck would have it, the Squire was passing by 
 the farm-house that very evening, and called there, as is 
 often his custom. He found the two schoolmates still 
 gossiping in the porch, and, according to the good old 
 Scottish song, " taking a cup of kindness yet, for auld 
 lang syne." The Squire was struck by the contrast in 
 appearance and fortunes of these early playmates. 
 Ready- Money Jack, seated in lordly state, surrounded 
 by the good things of this life, with golden guineas 
 hanging to his very watch-chain ; and the poor pilgrim 
 Slingsby, thin as a weasel, with all his worldly effects, 
 his bundle, hat, and walking-staff, lying on the ground 
 beside him. 
 
 The good Squire's heart warmed towards the luckless 
 cosmopolite, for he is a little prone to like such half- 
 vagrant characters. He cast about in his mind how he 
 should contrive once more to anchor Slingsby in his 
 native village. Honest Jack had already offered him a 
 present shelter under his roof, in spite of the hints, and 
 winks, and half remonstrances of the shrewd Dame 
 Tibbets; but how to provide for his permanent main- 
 tenance was the question. Luckily, the Squire be- 
 thought himself that the village school was without a 
 teacher. A little further conversation convinced him 
 that Slingsby was as fit for that as for any thing else, 
 and in a day or two he was seen swaying the rod of 
 empire in the very school-house where he had often 
 been horsed in the days of his boyhood. 
 
 Here he has remained for several years, and, being 
 honored by the countenance of the Squire, and the fast 
 
74 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 friendship of Mr. Tibbets, he has grown into much im- 
 portance and consideration in the village. I am told, 
 however, that he still shows, now and then, a degree 
 of restlessness, and a disposition to rove abroad again, 
 and see a little more of the world; an inclination. which 
 seems particularly to haunt him about spring-time. 
 There is nothing so difficult to conquer as the vagrant 
 humor, when once it has been fully indulged. 
 
 Since I have heard these anecdotes of poor Slingsby, 
 I have more than once mused upon the picture pre- 
 sented by him and his schoolmate Ready-Money Jack, 
 on their coming together again after so long a sepa- 
 ration. It is difficult to determine between lots in 
 life, where each is attended with its peculiar discon- 
 tents. He who never leaves his home repines at his 
 monotonous existence, and envies the traveler, whose 
 life is a constant tissue of wonder and adventure; while 
 he who is tossed about the world, looks back with many 
 a sigh to the safe and quiet shore which he has aban- 
 doned. I cannot help thinking, however, that the man 
 who stays at home, and cultivates the comforts and 
 pleasures daily springing up around him, stands the 
 best chance for happiness. There is nothing so fasci- 
 nating to a young mind as the idea of traveling; and 
 there is very witchcraft in the old phrase found in every 
 nursery tale, of " going to seek one's fortune." A con- 
 tinual change of place, and change of object, promises 
 a continual succession of adventure and gratification 
 of curiosity. But there is a limit to all our enjoyments, 
 and every desire bears its death in its very gratification. 
 Curiosity languishes under repeated stimulants; nov- 
 elties cease to excite surprise ; until at length we cannot 
 wonder even at a miracle. 
 
THE ROOKERY 75 
 
 He who has sallied forth into the world, like poor 
 Slingsby, full of sunny anticipations, finds too soon 
 how different the distant scene becomes when visited. 
 The smooth place roughens as he approaches ; the wild 
 place becomes tame and barren ; the fairy tints which 
 beguiled him on, still fly to the distant hill, or gather 
 upon the land he has left behind ; and every part of the 
 landscape seems greener than the spot he stands on. 
 
 THE ROOKERY 
 
 In a grove of tall oaks and beeches, that crowns a 
 terrace-walk, just on the skirts of the garden, is an 
 ancient rookery; which is one of the most important 
 provinces in the Squire's rural domains. The old gen- 
 tleman sets great store by his rooks, and will not suffer 
 one of them to be killed ; in consequence of which they 
 have increased amazingly: the tree-tops are loaded 
 with their nests ; they have encroached upon the great 
 avenue, and even established, in times long past, a 
 colony among the elms and pines of the church-yard, 
 which, like other distant colonies, has already thrown 
 off allegiance to the mother country. 
 
 The rooks are looked upon by the Squire as a very 
 ancient and honorable line of gentry, highly aristo- 
 cratical in their notions, fond of place, and attached 
 to church and state ; as their building so loftily, keeping 
 about churches and cathedrals, and in the venerable 
 groves of old castles and manor-houses, sufficiently 
 manifests. The good opinion thus expressed by the 
 Squire put me upon observing more narrowly these 
 very respectable birds; for I confess, to my shame, I 
 had been apt to confound them with their cousins- 
 
76 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 gennan the crows, to whom, at the first glance, they 
 bear so great a family resemblance. Nothing, it seems, 
 could be more unjust or injurious than such a mistake. 
 The rooks and crows are, among the feathered tribes, 
 what the Spaniards and Portuguese are among nations, 
 the least loving, in consequence of their neighborhood 
 and similarity. The rooks are old-established house- 
 keepers, high-minded gentlefolk, who have had their 
 hereditary abodes time out of mind ; but as to the poor 
 crows, they are a kind of vagabond, predatory, gipsy 
 race, roving about the country without any settled 
 home; "their hands are against every body, and every 
 body's against them," and they are gibbeted in every 
 cornfield. Master Simon assures me that a female 
 rook, who should so far forget herself as to consort 
 with a crow, would inevitably be disinherited, and 
 indeed would be totally discarded by all her genteel 
 acquaintance. 
 
 The Squire is very watchful over the interests and 
 concerns of his sable neighbors. As to Master Simon, 
 he even pretends to know many of them by sight, and 
 to have given names to them; he points out several, 
 which he says are old heads of families, and compares 
 them to worthy old citizens, beforehand in the world, 
 that wear cocked-hats, and silver buckles in their shoes. 
 Notwithstanding the protecting benevolence of the 
 Squire, and their being residents in his empire, they 
 seem to acknowledge no allegiance, and to hold no 
 intercourse or intimacy. Their airy tenements are 
 built almost out of the reach of gunshot ; and notwith- 
 standing their vicinity to the Hall, they maintain a 
 most reserved and distrustful shyness of mankind. 
 
 There is one season of the year, however, which 
 
THE ROOKERY 77 
 
 brings all birds in a manner to a level, and tames the 
 pride of the loftiest high-flier, which is the season of 
 building their nests. This takes place early in the 
 spring, when the forest-trees first begin to show their 
 buds, and the long, withy ends of the branches to turn 
 green; when the wild strawberry and other herbage 
 of the sheltered woodlands put forth their tender and 
 tinted leaves; and the daisy and the primrose peep 
 from under the hedges. At this time there is a general 
 bustle among the feathered tribes ; an incessant flutter- 
 ing about, and a cheerful chirping ; indicative, like the 
 germination of the vegetable world, of the reviving life 
 and fecundity of the year. 
 
 It is then that the rooks forget their usual stateliness, 
 and their shy and lofty habits. Instead of keeping up 
 in the high regions of the air, swinging on the breezy 
 tree-tops, and looking down with sovereign contempt 
 upon the humble crawlers upon earth, they are fain 
 to throw off for a time the dignity of the gentleman, to 
 come down to the ground, and put on the painstaking 
 and industrious character of a laborer. They now lose 
 their natural shyness, become fearless and familiar, 
 and may be seen plying about in all directions, with an 
 air of great assiduity, in search of building materials. 
 Every now and then your path will be crossed by one 
 of these busy old gentlemen, worrying about with awk- 
 ward gait, as if troubled with the gout, or with corns on 
 his toes; casting about many a prying look; turning 
 down first one eye, then the other, in earnest consid- 
 eration, upon every straw he meets with ; until, espying 
 some mighty twig, large enough to make a rafter for 
 his air-castle, he will seize upon it with avidity, and 
 hurry away with it to the tree-top; fearing, appar- 
 
78 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 ently, lest you should dispute with him the invaluable 
 prize. 
 
 Like other castle-builders, these airy architects seem 
 rather fanciful in the materials with which they build, 
 and to like those most which come from a distance. 
 Thus, though there are abundance of dry twigs on the 
 surrounding trees, yet they never think of making use 
 of them, but go foraging in distant lands, and come 
 sailing home one by one, from the ends of the earth, 
 each bearing in his bill some precious piece of 
 timber. 
 
 Nor must I avoid mentioning, what, I grieve to say, 
 rather derogates from the grave and honorable char- 
 acter of these ancient gentlefolk, that, during the archi- 
 tectural season, they are subject to great dissensions 
 among themselves; that they make no scruple to de- 
 fraud and plunder each other; and that sometimes the 
 rookery is a scene of hideous brawl and commotion, in 
 consequence of some delinquency of the kind. One 
 of the partners generally remains on the nest to guard 
 it from depredation; and I have seen severe contests, 
 when some sly neighbor has endeavored to filch away 
 a tempting rafter that had captivated his eye. As I 
 am not willing hastily to admit any suspicion deroga- 
 tory to the general character of so worshipful a people, 
 I am inclined to think these larcenies discountenanced 
 by the higher classes, and even rigorously punished 
 by those in authority; for I have now and then seen a 
 whole gang of rooks fall upon the nest of some indi- 
 vidual, pull it all to pieces, carry off the spoils, and even 
 buffet the luckless proprietor. I have concluded this 
 to be a signal punishment inflicted upon him, by the 
 officers of the police, for some pilfering misdemeanor; 
 
THE ROOKERY 79 
 
 or, perhaps, that it was a crew of bailiffs carrying an 
 execution into his house. 
 
 I have been amused with another of their movements 
 during the building season. The steward has suffered 
 a considerable number of sheep to graze on a lawn 
 near the house, somewhat to the annoyance of the 
 Squire, who thinks this an innovation on the dignity 
 of a park, which ought to be devoted to deer only. Be 
 this as it may, there is a green knoll, not far from the 
 drawing-room window, where the ewes and lambs are 
 accustomed to assemble towards evening, for the be- 
 nefit of the setting sun. No sooner were they gathered 
 here, at the time when these politic birds were building, 
 than a stately old rook, who Master Simon assured me 
 was the chief magistrate of this community, would 
 settle down upon the head of one of the ewes, who, 
 seeming unconscious of this condescension, would 
 desist from grazing, and stand fixed in motionless 
 reverence of her august burden ; the rest of the rook- 
 ery would then come wheeling down, in imitation of 
 their leader, until every ewe had two or three of them 
 cawing, and fluttering, and battling upon her back. 
 Whether they requited the submission of the sheep, by 
 levying a contribution upon their fleece for the benefit 
 of the rookery, I am not certain; though I presume 
 they followed the usual custom of protecting powers. 
 
 The latter part of May is the time of great tribulation 
 among the rookeries, when the young are just able to 
 leave the nests, and balance themselves on the neigh- 
 boring branches. Now comes on the season of " rook- 
 shooting"; a terrible slaughter of the innocents. The 
 Squire, of course, prohibits all invasion of the kind on 
 his territories ; but I am told that a lamentable havoc 
 
80 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 takes place in the colony about the old church. Upon 
 this devoted commonwealth the village charges "with 
 all its chivalry." Every idle wight, lucky enough to 
 possess an old gun or blunderbuss, together with all 
 the archery of Slingsby's school, takes the field on the 
 occasion. In vain does the little parson interfere, or 
 remonstrate, in angry tones, from his study window 
 that looks into the church-yard; there is a continual 
 popping from morning till night. Being no great 
 marksmen, their shots are not often effective; but 
 every now and then a great shout from the besieging 
 army of bumpkins makes known the downfall of some 
 unlucky, squab rook, which comes to the ground with 
 the emphasis of a squashed apple-dumpling. 
 
 Nor is the rookery entirely free from other troubles 
 and disasters. In so aristocratical and lofty-minded 
 a community, which boasts so much ancient blood and 
 hereditary pride, it is natural to suppose that questions 
 of etiquette will sometimes arise, and affairs of honor 
 ensue. In fact, this is very often the case; bitter quar- 
 rels break out between individuals, which produce 
 sad scufflings on the tree-tops, and I have more than 
 once seen a regular duel between two doughty heroes 
 of the rookery. Their field of battle is generally the 
 air ; and their contest is managed in the most scientific 
 and elegant manner; wheeling round and round each 
 other, and towering higher and higher, to get the van- 
 tage ground, until they sometimes disappear in the 
 clouds before the combat is determined. 
 
 They have also fierce combats now and then with an 
 invading hawk, and will drive him off from their ter- 
 ritories by a fosse comitatus. They are also extremely 
 tenacious of their domains, and will suffer no other 
 
THE ROOKERY 81 
 
 bird to inhabit the grove or its vicinity. A very ancient 
 and respectable old bachelor owl had for a long time 
 his lodgings in a corner of the grove, but has been 
 fairly ejected by the rooks; and has retired, disgusted 
 with the world, to a neighboring wood, where he leads 
 the life of a hermit, and makes nightly complaints of 
 his ill treatment. 
 
 The hootings of this unhappy gentleman may gen- 
 erally be heard in the still evenings, when the rooks 
 are all at rest; and I have often listened to them, of 
 a moonlight night, with a kind of mysterious gratifi- 
 cation. This gray-bearded misanthrope of course is 
 highly respected by the Squire; but the servants have 
 superstitious notions about him ; and it would be diffi- 
 cult to get the dairy-maid to venture after dark near 
 to the wood which he inhabits. 
 
 Besides the private quarrels of the rooks, there are 
 other misfortunes to which they are liable, and which 
 often bring distress into the most respectable families 
 of the rookery. Having the true baronial spirit of the 
 good old feudal times, they are apt now and then to 
 issue forth from their castles on a foray, and lay the 
 plebeian fields of the neighboring country under con- 
 tribution ; in the course of which chivalrous expeditions 
 they now and then get a shot from the rusty artillery 
 of some refractory farmer. Occasionally, too, while 
 they are quietly taking the air beyond the park bound- 
 aries, they have the incaution to come within reach of 
 the truant bowmen of Slingsby's school, and receive 
 a flight shot from some unlucky urchin's arrow. In 
 such case the wounded adventurer will sometimes have 
 just strength enough to bring himself home, and, giving 
 up the ghost at the rookery, will hang dangling "all 
 
82 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 abroad" on a bough, like a thief on a gibbet; an awful 
 warning to his friends, and an object of great commis- 
 eration to the Squire. 
 
 But, maugre all these untoward incidents, the rooks 
 have, upon the whole, a happy holiday life of it. When 
 their young are reared, and fairly launched upon their 
 native element, the air, the cares of the old folks seem 
 over, and they resume all their aristocratical dignity 
 and idleness. I have envied them the enjoyment which 
 they appear to have in their ethereal heights, sporting 
 with clamorous exultation about their lofty bowers; 
 sometimes hovering over them, sometimes partially 
 alighting upon the topmost branches, and there bal- 
 ancing with outstretched wings, and swinging in the 
 breeze. Sometimes they seem to take a fashionable 
 drive to the church, and amuse themselves by circling 
 in airy rings about its spire ; at other times a mere gar- 
 rison is left at home to mount guard in their strong- 
 hold at the grove, while the rest roam abroad to enjoy 
 the fine weather. About sunset the garrison gives notice 
 of their return; their faint cawing will be heard from 
 a great distance, and they will be seen far off like a 
 sable cloud, and then, nearer and nearer, until they all 
 come soaring home. Then they perform several grand 
 circuits in the air, over the Hall and garden, wheeling 
 closer and closer, until they gradually settle down; 
 when a prodigious cawing takes place, as though they 
 were relating their day's adventures. 
 
 I like at such times to wa.lk about these dusky groves, 
 and hear the various sounds of these airy people roosted 
 so high above me. As the gloom increases, their con- 
 versation subsides, and they gradually drop asleep; 
 but every now and then there is a querulous note, as 
 
MAY-DAY 83 
 
 if some one was quarreling for a pillow, or a little more 
 of the blanket. It is late in the evening before they 
 completely sink to repose, and then their old anchorite 
 neighbor, the owl, begins his lonely hootings from his 
 bachelor 's-hall, in the wood. 
 
 MAY-DAY 
 
 As I was lying in bed this morning, enjoying one of 
 those half dreams, half reveries, which are so pleasant 
 in the country, when the birds are singing about the 
 window, and the sunbeams peeping through the cur- 
 tains, I was roused by the sound of music. On going 
 down stairs, I found a number of villagers, dressed in 
 their holiday clothes, bearing a pole ornamented with 
 garlands and ribbons, and accompanied by the village 
 band of music, under the direction of the tailor, the 
 pale fellow who plays on the clarinet. They had all 
 sprigs of hawthorn, or, as it is called, "the May,'* in 
 their hats, and had brought green branches and flowers 
 to decorate the Hall door and windows. They had 
 come to give notice that the May-pole was reared on 
 the green, and to invite the household to witness the 
 sports. The Hall, according to custom, became a scene 
 of hurry and delighted confusion. The servants were 
 all agog with May and music ; and there was no keep- 
 ing either the tongues or the feet of the maids quiet, 
 who were anticipating the sports of the green, and the 
 evening dance. 
 
 I repaired to the village at an early hour to enjoy 
 the merry-making. The morning was pure and sunny, 
 such as a May morning is always described. The fields 
 were white with daisies, the hawtkorn was covered 
 
84 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 with its fragrant blossoms, the bee hummed about 
 every bank, and the swallow played high in the air 
 about the village steeple. It was one of those genial 
 days when we seem to draw in pleasure with the very 
 air we breathe, and to feel happy we know not why. 
 Whoever has felt the worth of worthy man, or has 
 doted on lovely woman, will, on such a day, call them 
 tenderly to mind, and feel his heart all alive with long- 
 buried recollections. " For thenne," says the excellent 
 romance of King Arthur, "lovers call ageyne to their 
 mynde old gentilnes and old servyse, and many kind 
 dedes that were forgotten by neglygence." 
 
 Before reaching the village, I saw the May-pole 
 towering above the cottages, with its gay garlands and 
 streamers, and heard the sound of music. Booths had 
 been set up near it, for the reception of company ; and 
 a bower of green branches and flowers for the Queen 
 of May, a fresh, rosy-cheeked girl of the village. 
 
 A band of morris-dancers were capering on the green 
 in their fantastic dresses, jingling with hawks' bells, 
 with a boy dressed up as Maid Marian, and the attend- 
 ant fool rattling his box to collect contributions from 
 the bystanders. The gipsy-women too were already 
 plying their mystery in by-corners of the village, read- 
 ing the hands of the simple country girls, and no doubt 
 promising them all good husbands and tribes of chil- 
 dren. 
 
 The Squire made his appearance in the course of thq 
 morning, attended by the parson, and was received 
 with loud acclamations. He mingled among the coun- 
 try people throughout the day, giving and receiving 
 pleasure wherever he went. The amusements of the 
 day were under the management of Slingsby, the 
 
MAY-DAY 85 
 
 schoolmaster, who is not merely lord of misrule in his 
 school, but master of the revels to the village. He was 
 bustling about with the perplexed and anxious air of 
 a man who has the oppressive burden of promoting 
 other people's merriment upon his mind. He had in- 
 volved himself in a dozen scrapes in consequence of a 
 politic intrigue, which, by the by. Master Simon and 
 the Oxonian were at the bottom of, which had for its 
 object the election of the Queen of May. He had met 
 with violent opposition from a faction of ale-drinkers, 
 who were in favor of a bouncing bar-maid, the daughter 
 of the inn-keeper ; but he had been too strongly backed 
 not to carry his point, though it shows that these rural 
 crowns, like all others, are objects of great ambition 
 and heart-burning. I am told that Master Simon takes 
 great interest, though in an underhand way, in the 
 election of these May-day Queens ; and that the chaplet 
 is generally secured for some rustic beauty who has 
 found favor in his eyes. 
 
 In the course of the day there were various games 
 of strength and agility on the green, at which a knot 
 of village veterans presided, as judges of the lists. 
 Among these Ready- Money Jack took the lead, look- 
 ing with a learned and critical eye on the merits of the 
 different candidates ; and though he was very laconic 
 and sometimes merely expressed himself by a nod, it 
 was evident his opinions far outweighed those of the 
 most loquacious. 
 
 Young Jack Tibbets was the hero of the day, and 
 carried off most of the prizes, though in some of the 
 feats of agility he was rivaled by the " prodigal son," 
 who appeared much in his element on this occasion; 
 but his most formidable competitor was the notorious 
 
86 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 gipsy, the redoubtable "Star-light Tom." I was re- 
 joiced at having an opportunity of seeing this " minion 
 of the moon" in broad daylight. I found him a tall, 
 swarthy, good-looking fellow, with a lofty air, some- 
 thing like what I have seen in an Indian chieftain ; and 
 with a certain lounging, easy, and almost graceful car- 
 riage, which I have often remarked in beings of the 
 lazaroni order, who lead an idle, loitering life, and have 
 a gentlemanlike contempt of labor. 
 
 Master Simon and the old general reconnoitred the 
 ground together, and indulged a vast deal of harmless 
 raking among the buxom country girls. Master Simon 
 would give some of them a kiss on meeting with them, 
 and would ask after their sisters, for he is acquainted 
 with most of the farmers' families. Sometimes he would 
 whisper, and affect to talk mischievously with them, 
 and, if bantered on the subject, would turn it off with 
 a laugh, though it was evident he liked to be suspected 
 of being a gay Lothario amongst them. 
 
 He had much to say to the farmers about their farms ; 
 and seemed to know all their horses by name. There 
 was an old fellow, with a round ruddy face, and a night- 
 cap under his hat, the village wit, who took several oc- 
 casions to crack a joke with him in the hearing of his 
 companions, to whom he would turn and wink hard 
 when Master Simon had passed. 
 
 The harmony of the day, however, had nearly, at 
 one time, been interrupted, by the appearance of the 
 radical on the ground, with two or three of his dis- 
 ciples. He soon got engaged in argument in the very 
 thick of the throng, above which I could hear his voice, 
 and now and then see his meagre hand, half a mile out 
 of the sleeve, elevated in the air in violent gesticula- 
 
MAY-DAY 87 
 
 tion, and flourishing a pamphlet by way of truncheon. 
 He was decrying these idle nonsensical amusements in 
 times of public distress, when it was every one's busi- 
 ness to think of other matters, and to be miserable. 
 The honest village logicians could make no stand against 
 him, especially as he was seconded by his proselytes; 
 when, to their great joy. Master Simon and the gen- 
 eral came drifting down into the field of action. Master 
 Simon was for making off, as soon as he found himself 
 in the neighborhood of this fireship ; but the general was 
 too loyal to suffer such talk in his hearing, and thought, 
 no doubt, that a look and a word from a gentleman 
 would be sufficient to shut up so shabby an orator. 
 The latter, however, was no respecter of persons, but 
 rather exulted in having such important antagonists. 
 He talked with greater volubility than ever, and soon 
 drowned them in declamation on the subject of taxes, 
 poor's rates, and the national debt. Master Simon 
 endeavored to brush along in his usual excursive man- 
 ner, which always answered amazingly well with the 
 villagers; but the radical was one of those pestilent 
 fellows that pin a man down to facts ; and, indeed, he 
 had two or three pamphlets in his pocket, to support 
 every thing he advanced by printed documents. The 
 general, too, found himself betrayed into a more seri- 
 ous action than his dignity could brook; and looked 
 like a mighty Dutch Indiaman grievously peppered 
 by a petty privateer. In vain he swelled and looked 
 big, and talked large, and endeavored to make up by 
 pomp of manner for poverty of matter; every home- 
 thrust of the radical made him wheeze like a bellows, 
 and seemed to let a volume of wind out of him. In a 
 word, the two worthies from the Hall were completely 
 
88 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 dumbfounded, and this too in the presence of several 
 of Master Simon's stanch admirers, who had always 
 looked up to him as infallible; I do not know how he 
 and the general would have managed to draw their 
 forces decently from the field, had not a match at grin- 
 ning through a horse-collar been announced, whereupon 
 the radical retired with great expression of contempt, 
 and, as soon as his back was turned, the argument 
 was carried against him all hollow. 
 
 " Did you ever hear such a pack of stuff, general ?" 
 said Master Simon; "there's no talking with one of 
 these chaps when he once gets that confounded Cob- 
 bett in his head/' 
 
 " S'blood, sir !" said the general, wiping his forehead, 
 "such fellows ought to be transported!" 
 
 In the latter part of the day the ladies from the Hall 
 paid a visit to the green. The fair Julia made her ap- 
 pearance, leaning on her lover's arm, and looking ex- 
 tremely pale and interesting. As she is a great favorite 
 in the village, where she has been known from child- 
 hood ; and as her late accident had been much talked 
 about, the sight of her caused very manifest delight, 
 and some of the old women of the village blessed her 
 sweet face as she passed. 
 
 While they were walking about, I noticed the school- 
 master in earnest conversation with the Queen of May, 
 evidently endeavoring to spirit her up to some formid- 
 able undertaking. At length, as the party from the 
 Hall approached her bower, she came forth, falter- 
 ing at every step, until she reached the spot where the 
 fair Julia stood between her lover and Lady Lillycraft. 
 The little Queen then took the chaplet of flowers 
 from her head, and attempted to put it on that of the 
 
MAY-DAY 89 
 
 bride elect ; but the confusion of both was so great, that 
 the wreath would have fallen to the ground, had not 
 the officer caught it, and, laughing, placed it upon the 
 blushing brows of his mistress. There was something 
 charming in the very embarrassment of these two young 
 creatures, both so beautiful, yet so different in their 
 kinds of beauty. Master Simon told me, afterw ards, 
 that the Queen of May was to have spoken a few verses 
 which the schoolmaster had written for her; but she 
 had neither wit to understand, nor memory to recollect 
 them. "Besides," added he, "between you and I, she 
 murders the king's English abominably; so she has 
 acted the part of a wise woman in holding her tongue, 
 and trusting to her pretty face.'* 
 
 Among the other characters from the Hall was Mrs. 
 Hannah, my Lady Lillycraft's gentlewoman : to my 
 surprise she was escorted by old Christy, the hunts- 
 man, and followed by his ghost of a greyhound ; but 
 I find they are very old acquaintances, being drawn 
 together by some sympathy of disposition. Mrs. Han- 
 nah moved about with starched dignity among the rus- 
 tics, who drew back from her with more awe than they 
 did from her mistress. Her mouth seemed shut as w ith 
 a clasp ; excepting that I now and then heard the word 
 "fellows!" escape from between her lips, as she got 
 accidentally jostled in the crowd. 
 
 But there was one other heart present that did not 
 enter into the merriment of the scene, which was that 
 of the simple Phoebe Wilkins, the housekeeper's niece. 
 The poor girl has continued to pine and whine for some 
 time past, in consequence of the obstinate coldness of 
 her lover; never was a little flirtation more severely 
 punished. She appeared this day on the green, gal- 
 
90 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 lanted by a smart servant out of livery, and had evi- 
 dently resolved to try the hazardous experiment of 
 awakening the jealousy of her lover. She was dressed 
 in her very best ; affected an air of great gayety ; talked 
 loud and girlishly, and laughed when there was nothing 
 to laugh at. There was, however, an aching, heavy 
 heart, in the poor baggage's bosom, in Spite of all her 
 levity. Her eye turned every now and then in quest of 
 her reckless lover, and her cheek grew pale, and her 
 fictitious gayety vanished, on seeing him paying his 
 rustic homage to the little May-day Queen. 
 
 My attention was now^ diverted by a fresh stir and 
 bustle. Music was heard from a distance; a banner 
 was advancing up the road, preceded by a rustic band 
 playing something like a march, and followed by a 
 sturdy throng of country lads, the chivalry of a neigh- 
 boring and rival village. 
 
 No sooner had they reached the green than they chal- 
 lenged the heroes of the day to new trials of strength 
 and activity. Several gymnastic contests ensued for the 
 honor of the respective villages. In the course of these 
 exercises, young Tibbets and the champion of the 
 adverse party had an obstinate match at wrestling. 
 They tugged, and strained, and panted, without either 
 getting the mastery, until both came to the ground, 
 and rolled upon the green. Just then the disconsolate 
 Phoebe came by. She saw her recreant lover in fierce 
 contest, as she thought, and in danger. In a moment 
 pride, pique, and coquetry were forgotten : she rushed 
 into the ring, seized upon the rival champion by the 
 hair, and was on the point of wreaking on him her puny 
 vengeance, when a buxom, strapping country lass, the 
 sweetheart of the prostrate swain, pounced upon her 
 
MAY-DAY 91 
 
 like a hawk, and would have stripped her of her fine 
 plumage in a twinkling, had she also not been seized 
 in her turn. 
 
 A complete tumult ensued. The chivalry of the two 
 villages became embroiled. Blows began to be dealt, 
 and sticks to be flourished. Phoebe was carried off from 
 the field in hysterics. In vain did the sages of the village 
 interfere. The sententious apothecary endeavored to 
 pour the soothing oil of his philosophy upon this tem- 
 pestuous sea of passion, but was tumbled into the dust. 
 Slingsby, the pedagogue, who is a great lover of peace, 
 went into the midst of the throng, as marshal of the 
 day, to put an end to the commotion ; but was rent in 
 twain, and came out with his garment hanging in two 
 strips from his shoulders : upon which the prodigal son 
 dashed in with fury to revenge the insult sustained by 
 his patron. The tumult thickened ; I caught glimpses 
 of the jockey-cap of old Christy, like the helmet of 
 a chieftain, bobbing about in the midst of the scuffle; 
 while Mistress Hannah, separated from her doughty 
 protector, was squalling and striking at right and left 
 with a faded parasol ; being tossed and tousled about by 
 the crowd in such wise as never happened to maiden 
 gentlewoman before. 
 
 At length old Ready-Money Jack made his way 
 into the very thickest of the throng; tearing it, as it 
 were, apart, and enforcing peace, vi et armis. It was 
 surprising to see the sudden quiet that ensued. The 
 storm settled down at once into tranquillity. The par- 
 ties, having no real grounds of hostility, were readily 
 pacified, and in fact were a little at a loss to know why 
 and how they had got by the ears. Slingsby was speed- 
 ily stitched together again by his friend the tailor, and 
 
92 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 resumed his usual good humor. Mrs. Hannah drew 
 on one side to plume her rumpled feathers; and old 
 Christy, having repaired his damages, took her under 
 his arm, and they swept back again to the Hall, ten 
 times more bitter against mankind than ever. 
 
 The Tibbets family alone seemed slow in recover- 
 ing from the agitation of the scene. Young Jack was 
 evidently very much moved by the heroism of the un- 
 lucky Phoebe. His mother, who had been summoned 
 to the field of action by news of the affray, was in a sad 
 panic, and had need of all her management to keep 
 him from following his mistress, and coming to a per- 
 fect reconciliation. 
 
 WTiat heightened the alarm and perplexity of the 
 good managing dame was, that the matter had aroused 
 the slow apprehension of old Ready-Money himself; 
 who was very much struck by the intrepid interfer- 
 ence of so pretty and delicate a girl, and W'as sadly 
 puzzled to understand the meaning of the violent agi- 
 tation in his family. 
 
 When all this came to the ears of the Squire, he was 
 grievously scandalized that his May-day fete should 
 have been disgraced by such a brawl. He ordered 
 Phoebe to appear before him, but the girl was so 
 frightened and distressed, that she came sobbing and 
 trembling, and, at the first question he asked, fell 
 again into hysterics. Lady Lillycraft, who understood 
 there was an affair of the heart at the bottom of this 
 distress, immediately took the girl into great favor and 
 protection, and made her peace with the Squire. This 
 was the only thing that disturbed the harmony of the 
 day, if we except the discomfiture of Master Simon and 
 the general by the radical. Upon the whole, therefore. 
 
THE CULPRIT 93 
 
 the Squire had very fair reason to be satisfied that he 
 had rode his hobby throughout the day without any 
 other molestation. 
 
 THE CULPRIT 
 
 The serenity of the Hall has been suddenly inter- 
 rupted by a very important occurrence. In the course 
 of this morning a posse of villagers was seen trooping 
 up the avenue, with boys shouting in advance. As it 
 drew near, we perceived Ready-Money Jack Tibbets 
 striding along, wielding his cudgel in one hand, and 
 with the other grasping the collar of a tall fellow, whom, 
 on still nearer approach, we recognized for the re- 
 doubtable gipsy hero. Star-light Tom. He was now, 
 however, completely cowed and crest-fallen, and his 
 courage seemed to have quailed in the iron gripe of 
 tlie lion-hearted Jack. 
 
 The whole gang of gipsy women and children came 
 draggling in the rear; some in tears, others making a 
 violent clamor about the ears of old Ready-Money, 
 w^ho, however, trudged on in silence with his prey, 
 heeding their abuse as little as a hawk that has pounced 
 upon a barn-door hero regards the outcries and cack- 
 lings of his whole feathered seraglio. 
 
 He had passed through the village on his way to the 
 Hall, and of course had made a great sensation in that 
 most excitable place, where every event is a matter of 
 gaze and gossip. The report flew like wildfire, that 
 Star-light Tom was in custody. The ale-drinkers forth- 
 with abandoned the tap-room ; Slingsby's school broke 
 loose, and master and boys swelled the tide that came 
 rolling at the heels of old Ready-Money and his captive. 
 
94 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 The uproar increased as they approached the Hall ; 
 it aroused the whole garrison of dogs, and the crew of 
 hangers-on. The great mastiff barked from the dog- 
 house ; the staghound and the greyhound and the span- 
 iel issued barking from the hall-door, and my Lady 
 Lillycraft's little dogs ramped and barked from the 
 parlor window. I remarked, however, that the gipsy 
 dogs made no reply to all these menaces and insults, 
 but crept close to the gang, looking round with a guilty, 
 poaching air, and now and then glancing up a dubious 
 eye to their owners; which shows that the moral dig- 
 nity, even of dogs, may be ruined by bad company ! 
 
 When the throng reached the front of the house, they 
 were brought to a halt by a kind of advanced guard, 
 composed of old Christy, the gamekeeper, and two or 
 three servants of the house, who had been brought 
 out by the noise. The common herd of the village fell 
 back with respect ; the boys w^ere driven back by Christy 
 and his compeers; while Ready-Money Jack main- 
 tained his ground and his hold of the prisoner, and was 
 surrounded by the tailor, the schoolmaster, and several 
 other dignitaries of the village, and by the clamorous 
 brood of gipsies, who were neither to be silenced nor 
 intimidated. 
 
 By this time the whole household were brought to 
 the doors and windows, and the Squire to the portal. 
 An audience was demanded by Ready-Money Jack, 
 who had detected the prisoner in the very act of sheep- 
 stealing on his domains, and had borne him off to be 
 examined before the Squire, who is in the commission 
 of the peace. 
 
 A kind of tribunal was immediately held in the ser- 
 vants' hall, a large chamber, with a stone floor, and a 
 
THE CULPRIT 95 
 
 long table in the centre, at one end of which, just under 
 an enormous clock, was placed the Squire's chair of 
 justice, while Master Simon took his place at the table 
 as clerk of the court. An attempt had been made by 
 old Christy to keep out the gipsy gang, but in vain, 
 and they, with the village worthies, and the household, 
 half -filled the hall. The old housekeeper and the butler 
 were in a panic at this dangerous irruption. They hur- 
 ried away all the valuable things and portable articles 
 that w^ere at hand, and even kept a dragon watch on 
 the gipsies, lest they should carry off the house-clock, 
 or the deal-table. 
 
 Old Christy, and his faithful coadjutor the game- 
 keeper, acted as constables to guard the prisoner, tri- 
 umphing in having at last got this terrible offender 
 in their clutches. Indeed, I am inclined to think the 
 old man bore some peevish recollection of having been 
 handled rather roughly by the gipsy in the chance- 
 medley affair of May-day. 
 
 Silence was now commanded by Master Simon ; but 
 it was difficult to be enforced in such a motley assem- 
 blage. There was a continual snarling and yelping of 
 dogs, and, as fast as it was quelled in one corner, it 
 broke out in another. The poor gipsy curs, who, like 
 errant thieves, could not hold up their heads in an hon- 
 est house, were worried and insulted by the gentlemen 
 dogs of the establishment, without offering to make 
 resistance ; the very curs of my Lady Lillycraf t bullied 
 them with impunity. 
 
 The examination was conducted with great mildness 
 and indulgence by the Squire, partly from the kindness 
 of his nature, and partly, I suspect, because his heart 
 yearned towards the culprit, who had found great 
 
96 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 favor in his eyes, as I have already observed, from the 
 skill he had at various times displayed in archery, 
 morris-dancing, and other obsolete accomplishments. 
 Proofs, however, were too strong. Ready-Money Jack 
 told his story in a straightforw ard independent way, 
 nothing daunted by the presence in which he found 
 himself. He had suffered from various depredations 
 on his sheepfold and poultry-yard, and had at length 
 kept watch, and caught the delinquent in the very act 
 of making off with a sheep on his shoulders. 
 
 Tibbets was repeatedly interrupted, in the course 
 of his testimony, by the culprit's mother, a furious old 
 beldame, with an insufferable tongue, and who, in fact, 
 was several times kept, with some difficulty, from fly- 
 ing at him tooth and nail. The wife, too, of the prisoner, 
 whom I am told he does not beat above half a dozen 
 times a week, completely interested Lady Lillycraft in 
 her husband's behalf, by her tears and supplications; 
 and several of the other gipsy women were awakening 
 strong sympathy among the young girls and maid-ser- 
 vants in the background. The pretty black-eyed gipsy 
 girl, whom I have mentioned on a former occasion as 
 the sibyl that read the fortunes of the general, endeav- 
 ored to wheedle that doughty warrior into their inter- 
 ests, and even made some approaches to her old ac- 
 quaintance. Master Simon; but was repelled by the 
 latter with all the dignity of office, having assumed a 
 look of gravity and importance suitable to the occasion. 
 
 I was a little surprised, at first, to find honest Slingsby, 
 the schoolmaster, rather opposed to his old crony Tib- 
 bets, and coming forward as a kind of advocate for the 
 accused. It seems that he had taken compassion on 
 the forlorn fortunes of Star-light Tom, and had been 
 
THE CULPRIT 97 
 
 trying his eloquence in his favor the whole way from 
 the village, but without effect. During the examination 
 of Ready-Money Jack, Slingsby had stood like "de- 
 jected pity at his side," seeking every now and then, 
 by a soft word, to soothe any exacerbation of his ire, 
 or to qualify any harsh expression. He now ventured 
 to make a few observations to the Squire in palliation 
 of the delinquent's offense; but poor Slingsby spoke 
 more from the heart than the head, and was evidently 
 actuated merely by a general sympathy for every poor 
 devil in trouble, and a liberal toleration for all kinds 
 of vagabond existence. 
 
 The ladies, too, large and small, with the kind-heart- 
 edness of the sex, were zealous on the side of mercy, 
 and interceded strenuously with the Squire; insomuch 
 that the prisoner, finding himself unexpectedly sur- 
 rounded by active friends, once more reared his crest, 
 and seemed disposed for a time to put on the air of 
 injured innocence. The Squire, however, with all his 
 benevolence of heart, and his lurking weakness towards 
 the prisoner, was too conscientious to swerve from the 
 strict path of justice. Abundant concurring testimony 
 made the proof of guilt incontrovertible, and Star-light 
 Tom's mittimus was made out accordingly. 
 
 The sympathy of the ladies was now greater than 
 ever; they even made some attempts to mollify the ire 
 of Ready- Money Jack ; but that sturdy potentate had 
 been too much incensed by the repeated incursions into 
 his territories by the predatory band of Star-light Tom, 
 and he was resolved, he said, to drive the "varment 
 reptiles" out of the neighborhood. To avoid all fur- 
 ther importunities, as soon as the mittimus was made 
 out, he girded up his loins, and strode back to his seat 
 
98 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 of empire, accompanied by his interceding friend, 
 Slingsby, and followed by a detachment of the gipsy 
 gang, who hung on his rear, assailing him with mingled 
 prayers and execrations. 
 
 The question now w as, how to dispose of the pris- 
 oner; a matter of great moment in this peaceful estab- 
 lishment, where so formidable a character as Star-light 
 Tom was like a hawk entrapped in a dove-cote. As the 
 hubbub and examination had occupied a considerable 
 time, it was too late in the day to send him to the county 
 prison, and that of the village was sadly out of repair 
 from long want of occupation. Old Christy, who took 
 great interest in the affair, proposed that the culprit 
 should be committed for the night to an upper loft of a 
 kind of tower in one of the outhouses, where he and 
 the gamekeeper would mount guard. After much de- 
 liberation, this measure was adopted ; the premises in 
 question w^ere examined and made secure, and Christy 
 and his trusty ally, the one armed with a fowling-piece, 
 the other w ith an ancient blunderbuss, turned out as 
 sentries to keep watch over this donjon-keep. 
 
 Such is the momentous affair that has just taken 
 place, and it is an event of too great moment in this 
 quiet little world, not to turn it completely topsy-tur\y. 
 Labor is at a stand. The house has been a scene of con- 
 fusion the whole evening. It has been beleagured by 
 gipsy women, with their children on their backs, wail- 
 ing and lamenting; while the old virago of a mother 
 has cruised up and down the lawn in front, shaking 
 her head and muttering to herself, or now^ and then 
 breaking into a paroxysm of rage, brandishing her fist 
 at the Hall, and denouncing ill luck upon Ready- 
 Money Jack, and even upon the Squire himself. 
 
THE CULPRIT 99 
 
 Lady Lilly craft has given repeated audiences to the 
 culprit's weeping wife, at the Hall door ; and the servant 
 maids have stolen out to confer with the gipsy women 
 under the trees. As to the little ladies of the family, 
 they are all outrageous at Ready-Money Jack, whom 
 they look upon in the light of a tyrannical giant of fairy 
 tale. Phoebe Wilkins, contrary to her usual nature, is 
 the only one pitiless in the affair. She thinks Mr. Tib- 
 bets quite in the right ; and thinks the gipsies deserve 
 to be punished severely for meddling with the sheep of 
 the Tibbets's. 
 
 In the meantime the females of the family evinced 
 all the provident kindness of the sex, ever ready to 
 soothe and succor the distressed, right or wrong. Lady 
 Lillycraft has had a mattress taken to the outhouse, 
 and comforts and delicacies of all kinds have been taken 
 to the prisoner; even the little girls have sent their 
 cakes and sweetmeats; so that, I'll warrant the vaga- 
 bond has never fared so well in his life before. Old 
 Christy, it is true, looks upon every thing with a wary 
 eye; struts about with his blunderbuss with the air of 
 a veteran campaigner, and will hardly allow himself 
 to be spoken to. The gipsy women dare not come 
 within gunshot, and every tatterdemalion of a boy has 
 been frightened from the park. The old fellow is 
 determined to lodge Star-light Tom in prison with his 
 own hands ; and hopes, he says, to see one of the poach- 
 ing crew made an example of. 
 
 I doubt, after all, whether the worthy Squire is not 
 the greatest sufferer in the whole affair. His honorable 
 sense of duty obliges him to be rigid, but the over- 
 flowing kindness of his nature makes this a grievous 
 trial to him. 
 
100 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 He is not accustomed to have such demands upon his 
 justice in his truly patriarchal domain ; and it wounds 
 his benevolent spirit, that while prosperity and hap- 
 piness are flowing in thus bounteously upon him, he 
 should have to inflict misery upon a fellow-being. 
 
 He has been troubled and cast down the whole even- 
 ing; took leave of the family, on going to bed, with a 
 sigh, instead of his usual hearty and affectionate tone ; 
 and will, in all probability, have a far more sleepless 
 night than his prisoner. Indeed, this unlucky affair 
 has cast a damp upon the whole household, as there 
 appears to be an universal opinion that the unlucky 
 culprit will come to the gallows. 
 
 Morning. — The clouds of last evening are all blown 
 over. A load has been taken from the Squire's heart, 
 and every face is once more in smiles. The game- 
 keeper made his appearance at an early hour, com- 
 pletely shamefaced and crest-fallen. Star-light Tom 
 had made his escape in the night; how he had got out 
 of the loft no one could tell : the Devil they think must 
 have assisted him. Old Christy was so mortified that 
 he would not show his face, but had shut himself up 
 in his strong-hold at the dog-kennel, and would not 
 be spoken with. What has particularly relieved the 
 Squire is, that there is very little likelihood of the cul- 
 prit's being retaken, having gone off on one of the old 
 gentleman's best hunters. 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 Notwithstanding the doubts and demurs of Lady 
 Lilly craft, and all the grave objections conjured up 
 against the month of May, the wedding has at length 
 
THE WEDDING 101 
 
 happily taken place. It was celebrated at the village 
 church, in presence of a numerous company of rela- 
 tives and friends, and many of the tenantry. The 
 Squire must needs have something of the old cere- 
 monies observed on the occasion ; so at the gate of the 
 church-yard, several little girls of the village, dressed 
 in white, were in readiness with baskets of flowers, 
 which they strewed before the bride; and the butler 
 bore before her the bride-cup, a great silver embossed 
 bowl, one of the family relics from the days of the hard 
 drinkers. This was filled with rich wine, and deco- 
 rated with a branch of rosemary, tied with gay ribbons, 
 according to ancient custom. 
 
 "Happy is the bride that the sun shines on," says 
 the old proverb ; and it was as sunny and auspicious 
 a morning as heart could wish. The bride looked 
 uncommonly beautiful ; but, in fact, what woman does 
 not look interesting on her wedding day? I know no 
 sight more charming and touching than that of a young 
 and timid bride, in her robes of virgin white, led up 
 trembling to the altar. When I thus behold a lovely 
 girl, in the tenderness of her years, forsaking the house 
 of her fathers, and the home of her childhood; and 
 with the implicit confiding, and the sweet self-abandon- 
 ment, which belong to woman, giving up all the world 
 for the man of her choice : when I hear her, in the good 
 old language of the ritual, yielding herself to him, 
 " for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness 
 and in health, to love, honor, and obey, till death us 
 do part," it brings to my mind the beautiful and affect- 
 ing self-devotion of Ruth : " Whither thou goest I will 
 go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people 
 shall be my people, and thy God my God." 
 
102 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 The fair Julia was supported on the trying occasion 
 by Lady Lillycraft, whose heart was overflowing with 
 its wonted sympathy in all matters of love and matri- 
 mony. As the bride approached the altar, her face 
 would be one moment covered with blushes, and the 
 next deadly pale; and she seemed almost ready to 
 shrink from sight among her female companions. 
 
 I do not know what it is that makes every one serious, 
 and, as it were, awe-struck, at a marriage ceremony; 
 which is generally considered an occasion of festivity 
 and rejoicing. As the ceremony was performing, I 
 observed many a rosy face among the country girls 
 turn pale, and I did not see a smile throughout the 
 church. The young ladies from the Hall were almost 
 as much frightened as if it had been their own case, 
 and stole many a look of sympathy at their trembling 
 companion. A tear stood in the eye of the sensitive 
 Lady Lillycraft; and as to Phoebe Wilkins, who was 
 present, she absolutely wept and sobbed aloud ; but it 
 is hard to tell, half the time, what these fond foolish 
 creatures are crying about. 
 
 The captain, too, though naturally gay and uncon- 
 cerned, was much agitated on the occasion; and, in 
 attempting to put the ring upon the bride's finger, 
 dropped it on the floor ; which Lady Lillycraft has since 
 assured me is a very lucky omen. Even Master Simon 
 had lost his usual vivacity, and assumed a most whim- 
 sically solemn face, which he is apt to do on all occa- 
 sions of ceremony. He had much whispering "with the 
 parson and parish-clerk, for he is always a busy per- 
 sonao^e in the scene, and he echoed the clerk's amen 
 with a solemnity and devotion that edified the whole 
 assemblage. 
 
THE WEDDING 103 
 
 The moment, however, that the ceremony was over, 
 the transition was magical. The bride-cup was passed 
 round, according to ancient usage, for the company to 
 drink to a happy union ; every one's f eehngs seemed to 
 break forth from restraint. Master Simon had a world 
 of bachelor pleasantries to utter, and as to the gallant 
 general, he bowed and cooed about the dulcet Lady 
 Lillycraft, like a mighty cock-pigeon about his dame. 
 
 The villagers gathered in the church-yard to cheer 
 the happy couple as they left the church; and the 
 musical tailor had marshaled his band, and set up a 
 hideous discord, as the blushing and smiling bride 
 passed through a lane of honest peasantry to her car- 
 riage. The children shouted and threw up their hats; 
 the bells rang a merry peal that set all the crows and 
 rooks flying and cawing about the air, and threatened 
 to bring down the battlements of the old tower; and 
 there was a continual popping off of rusty firelocks 
 from every part of the neighborhood. 
 
 The prodigal son distinguished himself on the occa- 
 sion, having hoisted a flag on the top of the school- 
 house, and kept the village in a hubbub from sunrise, 
 with the sound of drum and fife and pandean pipe ; in 
 which species of music several of his scholars are mak- 
 ing wonderful proficiency. In his great zeal, however, 
 he had nearly done mischief; for on returning from 
 church, the horses of the bride's carriage took fright 
 from the discharge of a row of old gun-barrels, which 
 he had mounted as a park of artillery in front of the 
 school-house, to give the captain a military salute as 
 he passed. 
 
 The day passed off with great rustic rejoicing. 
 Tables were spread under the trees in the park, where 
 
104 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 all the peasantry of the neighborhood were regaled 
 with roast-beef and plum-pudding, and oceans of ale. 
 Ready- Money Jack presided at one of the tables, and 
 became so full of good cheer, as to unbend from his 
 usual gravity, to sing a song out of all tune, and give 
 two or three shouts of laughter, that almost electrified 
 his neighbors, like so many peals of thunder. The 
 schoolmaster and the apothecary vied with each other 
 in making speeches over their liquor; and there were 
 occasional glees and musical performances by the vil- 
 lage band, that must have frightened every faun and 
 dryad from the park. Even old Christy, who had got 
 on a new dress, from top to toe, and shone in all the 
 splendor of bright leather-breeches, and an enormous 
 wedding favor in his cap, forgot his usual crustiness^ 
 became inspired by wine and wassail, and absolutely 
 danced a hornpipe on one of the tables, with all the 
 grace and agility of a mannikin hung upon wires. 
 
 Equal gayety reigned within doors, where a large 
 party of friends were entertained. Every one laughed 
 at his own pleasantry, without attending to that of his 
 neighbor. Loads of bride-cake were distributed. The 
 young ladies were all busy in passing morsels of it 
 through the wedding-ring to dream on, and I myself 
 assisted a little boarding-school girl in putting up a 
 quantity for her companions, which I have no doubt 
 will set all the little heads in the school gadding, for 
 a week at least. 
 
 After dinner all the company, great and small, gentle 
 and simple, abandoned themselves to the dance: not 
 the modern quadrille, with its graceful gravity, but the 
 merry, social, old country dance; the true dance, as 
 the Squire says, for a wedding occasion, as it sets all 
 
THE WEDDING 105 
 
 the world jigging in couples, hand in hand, and makes 
 every eye and every heart dance merrily to the music. 
 According to frank old usage, the gentlefolks of the 
 Hall mingled for a time in the dance of the peasantry, 
 who had a great tent erected for a ball-room; and I 
 think I never saw Master Simon more in his element 
 than when figuring about among his rustic admirers, 
 as master of the ceremonies; and with a mingled air 
 of protection and gallantry, leading out the quondam 
 Queen of May, all blushing at the signal honor con- 
 ferred upon her. 
 
 In the evening the whole village was illuminated, 
 excepting the house of the radical, who has not shown 
 his face during the rejoicings. There was a display of 
 fireworks at the school-house, got up by the prodigal 
 son, which had well nigh set fire to the building. The 
 Squire is so much pleased with the extraordinary ser- 
 vices of this last-mentioned worthy, that he talks of 
 enrolling him in his list of valuable retainers, and 
 promoting him to some important post on the estate ; 
 peradventure to be falconer, if the hawks can ever be 
 brought into proper training. 
 
 There is a well-known old proverb, which says " one 
 wedding makes many," — or something to the same 
 purpose; and I should not be surprised if it holds good 
 in the present instance. I have seen several flirtations 
 among the young people brought together on this occa- 
 sion ; and a great deal of strolling about in pairs, among 
 the retired walks and blossoming shrubberies of the 
 old garden: and if groves were really given to whis- 
 pering, as poets would fain make us believe. Heaven 
 knows what love-tales the grave-looking old trees about 
 this venerable country-seat might blab to the world. 
 
106 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 The general, too, has w axed very zealous in his de- 
 votions within the last few days, as the time of her lady- 
 ship's departure approaches. I observed him casting 
 many a tender look at her during the wedding dinner, 
 while the courses w^ere changing ; though he was always 
 liable to be interrupted in his adoration by the appear- 
 ance of any new delicacy. The general, in fact, has 
 arrived at that time of life, when the heart and the 
 stomach maintain a kind of balance of power, and 
 when a man is apt to be perplexed in his affections 
 between a fine woman and a truffled turkey. Her lady- 
 ship w^as certainly rivaled through the whole of the 
 first course by a dish of stewed carp ; and there w^as one 
 glance, which was evidently intended to be a point- 
 blank shot at her heart, and could scarcely have failed 
 to effect a practicable breach, had it not unluckily been 
 directed away to a tempting breast of lamb, in which 
 it immediately produced a formidable incision. 
 
 Thus did this faithless general go on, coquetting 
 during the whole dinner, and committing an infidelity 
 with every new dish; until, in the end, he was so over- 
 powered by the attentions he had paid to fish, flesh, 
 and fowl; to pastry, jelly, cream, and blanc-mange, 
 that he seemed to sink within himself: his eyes swam 
 beneath their lids, and their fire w as so much slackened, 
 that he could no longer discharge a single glance that 
 would reach across the table. Upon the whole, I fear 
 the general ate himself into as much disgrace, at this 
 memorable dinner, as I have seen him sleep himself 
 into on a former occasion. 
 
 I am told, moreover, that young Jack Tibbets was 
 so touched by the wedding ceremony, at which he 
 was present, and so captivated by the sensibility of poor 
 
THE WEDDING 107 
 
 Phoebe Wilkins, who certainly looked all the better for 
 her tears, that he had a reconciliation with her that 
 very day after dinner, in one of the groves of the park, 
 and danced with her in the evening; to the complete 
 confusion of all Dame Tibbets' domestic politics. I 
 met them walking together in the park, shortly after 
 the reconciliation must have taken place. Young Jack 
 carried himself gayly and manfully; but Phoebe hung 
 her head, blushing, as I approached. However, just 
 as she passed me, and dropped a courtesy, I caught 
 a shy gleam of her eye from under her bonnet ; but it 
 was immediately cast down again. I saw enough in that 
 single gleam, and in an involuntary smile dimpling 
 about her rosy lips, to feel satisfied that the little gipsy's 
 heart was happy again. 
 
 What is more. Lady Lillycraft, w ith her usual bene- 
 volence and zeal in all matters of this tender nature, 
 on hearing of the reconciliation of the lovers, undertook 
 the critical task of breaking the matter to Ready- 
 Money Jack. She thought there was no time like the 
 present, and attacked the sturdy old yeoman that very 
 evening in the park, while his heart was yet lifted up 
 with the Squire's good cheer. Jack was a little surprised 
 at being drawn aside by her ladyship, but was not to 
 be flurried by such an honor : he was still more surprised 
 by the nature of her communication, and by this first 
 intelligence of an affair that had been passing under 
 his eye. He listened, however, with his usual gravity, 
 as her ladyship represented the advantages of the 
 match, the good qualities of the girl, and the distress 
 which she had lately suffered : at length his eye began 
 to kindle, and his hand to play with the head of his 
 cudgel. Lady Lillycraft saw that something in the 
 
108 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 narrative had gone wrong, and hastened to mollify his 
 rising ire by reiterating the soft-hearted Phoebe's merit 
 and fidelity, and her great unhappiness; when old 
 Ready- Money suddenly interrupted her by exclaiming, 
 that if Jack did not marry the wench, he'd break every 
 bone in his body ! The match, therefore, is considered 
 a settled thing: Dame Tibbets and the housekeeper 
 have made friends, and drunk tea together ; and Phoebe 
 has again recovered her good looks and good spirits, 
 and is caroling from morning till night like a lark. 
 
 But the most whimsical caprice of Cupid is one that 
 I should be almost afraid to mention, did I not know 
 that I was writing for readers well experienced in the 
 waywardness of this most mischievous deity. The 
 morning after the wedding, therefore, while Lady 
 Lillycraft was making preparations for her departure, 
 an audience was requested by her immaculate hand- 
 maid, Mrs. Hannah, w^ho, with much primming of the 
 mouth, and many maidenly hesitations, requested leave 
 to stay behind, and that Lady Lillycraft would supply 
 her place with some other servant. Her ladyship was 
 astonished: "What! Hannah going to quit her, that 
 had lived with her so long!" 
 
 " Why; one could not help it ; one must settle in life 
 some time or other." 
 
 The good lady was still lost in amazement ; at length 
 the secret was gasped from the dry lips of the maiden 
 gentlewoman: "She had been some time thinking of 
 changing her condition, and at length had given her 
 word, last evening, to Mr. Christy, the huntsman." 
 
 How, or when, or where this singular courtship had 
 been carried on, I have not been able to learn ; nor how 
 she has been able, with the vinegar of her disposition. 
 
THE WEDDING lOd 
 
 to soften the stony heart of old Nimrod : so, however, 
 it is, and it has astonished every one. With all her lady- 
 ship's love of match-making, this last fume of Hymen's 
 torch has been too much for her. She has endeavored 
 to reason with Mrs. Hannah, but all in vain ; her mind 
 was made up, and she grew tart on the least contradic- 
 tion. Lady Lillycraf t applied to the Squire for his inter- 
 ference. " She did not know what she should do with- 
 out Mrs. Hannah, she had been used to have her about 
 her so long a time." 
 
 The Squire, on the contrary, rejoiced in the match, 
 as relieving the good lady from a kind of toilet-tyrant, 
 under whose sway she had suffered for years. Instead 
 of thwarting the affair, therefore, he has given it his 
 full countenance; and declares that he will set up the 
 young couple in one of the best cottages on his estate. 
 The approbation of the Squire has been followed by 
 that of the whole household; they all declare, that if 
 ever matches are really made in heaven, this must have 
 been; for that old Christy and Mrs. Hannah were as 
 evidently formed to be linked together, as ever were 
 pepper-box and vinegar-cruet. 
 
 As soon as this matter was arranged. Lady Lilly- 
 craft took her leave of the family at the Hall ; taking 
 with her the captain and his blushing bride, who are 
 to pass the honeymoon with her. Master Simon accom- 
 panied them on horseback, and indeed means to ride 
 on ahead to make preparations. The general, who was 
 fishing in vain for an invitation to her seat, handed 
 her ladyship into her carriage with a heavy sigh ; upon 
 which his bosom friend, Master Simon, who was just 
 mounting his horse, gave me a knowing wink, made 
 an abominably wry face, and leaning from his saddle. 
 
110 BRACEBRIDGE HALL 
 
 whispered loudly in my ear, "It won't do!" Then 
 putting spurs to his horse, away he cantered off. The 
 general stood for some time waving his hat after the 
 carriage as it rolled down the avenue, until he was 
 seized with a fit of sneezing, from exposing his head 
 to the cool breeze. I observed that he returned rather 
 thoughtfully to the house; whistling softly to himself, 
 with his hands behind his back, and an exceedingly 
 dubious air. 
 
 The company have now almost all taken their de- 
 parture; I have determined to do the same to-morrow 
 morning; and I hope my reader may not think that I 
 have already lingered too long at the Hall. I have been 
 tempted to do so, however, because I thought I had 
 lit upon one of the retired places where there are yet 
 some traces to be met with of old English character. 
 A little while hence, and all these will probably have 
 passed away. Ready- Money Jack will sleep with his 
 fathers : the good Squire, and all his peculiarities, will 
 be buried in the neighboring church. The old Hall 
 will be modernized into a fashionable country-seat, or, 
 peradventure, a manufactory. The park will be cut up 
 into petty farms and kitchen-gardens. A daily coach 
 will run through the village; it will become, like all 
 other commonplace villages, thronged with coachmen, 
 post-boys, tipplers, and politicians: and Christmas, 
 May-day, and all the other hearty merry-makings of 
 the "good old times," will be forgotten. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 THE HALL 
 
 Page 1 : the volumes of the Sketch-Book: the Sketch-Book, writ- 
 ten in England, was published serially in America between 
 May, 1819, and September, 1820, two years before Irving 
 wrote Bracebridge Hall. The essays in the Sketch-Book which 
 concern the reader of this volume are The Stage Coach, Christ- 
 mas Eve, Christmas Day, and The Christmas Dinner. 
 
 Page 2: a humorist: not a wit or joker, but one who has a 
 peculiarity of character which he indulges in some odd or 
 eccentric way. 
 
 Page 2: jumps: agrees with; suits. 
 
 Page 2: my "fatherland": note in this expression, and in 
 others like it throughout the sketches, Irving's desire to create 
 a friendly feeling between English and American readers. 
 Thackeray called Irving " the first ambassador whom the New 
 World of Letters sent to the Old." As you read Bracebridge 
 Hall, try to find indications of the truth of this statement. 
 
 In what ways is this chapter distinctly introductory? Does 
 it arouse curiosity or interest? How? 
 
 Words for study : ward ; feudal ; 'parterres ; exotics ; donjon- 
 keep. 
 
 THE BUSY MAN 
 
 Page 4: breaking a pointer: teaching a dog to point with its 
 nose at game when hunting. 
 
 Page 4: factotum: one who does everything. 
 
 Page 5: farriery: the curing of diseases among horses and 
 cattle. 
 
 Page 5: Elizabeth: queen of England, 1558-1603. 
 
 Page 5: the Novelist's Magazine, etc.: these four periodicals 
 of sport, adventure, and crime still further reveal Master 
 Simon's tastes and character. 
 
 Page 5: a veritable Cremona: violins of superior quality were 
 made at Cremona in Italy as long ago as the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
112 EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 Page 6: Orpheus: the chief musician of Greek mythology. 
 Every one sliould know the beautiful story of Orpheus and 
 Eurydice. Cf . Bulfinch's Age of Fable. 
 
 Page 6: camera lucida: literally, a light chamber, or box. An 
 instrument for throwing a magnified image on a canvas or 
 paper. Generally used with the microscope. 
 
 Page' 7: casting, imping, etc. : terms of the ancient sport of fal- 
 conry. See any large dictionary. 
 
 Page 8 : Sir Joshua Reynolds : the greatest of English portrait 
 painters (1723-1792). 
 
 What method does Irving use to bring before you a clear 
 picture of Master Simon and Old Christy? Is he more con- 
 cerned with their characters or with their personal appear- 
 ance? Do you find any particularly suggestive sentences? 
 Are the descriptions general or minute? Note the connective 
 words and phrases between the paragraphs of this chapter. 
 Words for study : superannuated; epitome; drench; prolixity; 
 durance; whippers-in; testy ; japanned; pragmatical j captious- 
 ness; opinionated; assiduous; vestal; vortex. 
 
 THE WIDOW 
 
 Page 10: in town: in London. 
 
 Page 10: present king: George IV. 
 
 Page 11: Kensington Garden: one of the fashionable public 
 parks of London. 
 
 Page 11: Sir Charles Grandison: a famous novel by Samuel 
 Richardson, published in 1753. 
 
 Page 12: Angola: same as Angora, a city of Asia Minor which 
 has given its name to a variety of cats, goats, and rabbits. 
 
 Page 12: Pamela: a novel by Samuel Richardson (1740). It 
 is sometimes spoken of as "the starting-point of the mod- 
 ern novel." 
 
 Page 12: Castle of Otranto: a novel by Horace Walpole, pub- 
 lished in 1764. Even in 1822, Lady Lillycraft's favorite books 
 were old-fashioned and quaint. 
 
 Page 13 : a red coat: that is, a British soldier in his red uniform. 
 Pick out sentences which reveal various traits of Lady 
 Lillycraft's character. What is Irving's method of describ- 
 ing her? What do you think is his own opinion of her? What 
 is yours ? 
 
 Words for study: whimsical; ostentation; toasts; gouty shoes; 
 epicure; erudition; reeking ; swain; poach. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 113 
 
 AN OLD SOLDIER 
 
 Page 13: a blade of the old school: a sharp-witted, wild fellow 
 of a former generation ; an old-fashioned dude. 
 
 Page 13: come upon the town: come into London society. 
 
 Page 14: Seringapatam : a town in the state of Mysore, India. 
 On May 4, 1799, the place was stormed by the British, 
 Tippu Sahib, the Sultan of Mysore, being killed in the 
 battle. 
 
 Page 15: quondam flame: former sweetheart. 
 
 Page 16: Windsor- terrace : the famous terrace which surrounds 
 the upper ward of Windsor Castle at Windsor, twenty miles 
 from London, is more than half a mile long, and affords a 
 magnificent view of the surrounding country. The castle is 
 one of the residences of the British sovereign. 
 
 Page 16: Bonaparte's invasion: Napoleon planned his invasion 
 of England in the summer of 1805. 
 
 What is the tone, or spirit, of this sketch as a whole? 
 Can you find an interesting illustration of anticlimax in 
 this essay? of simile? of sarcasm? 
 
 Words for study: lithe; ensign; cant; dowager; levee; wax, 
 
 THE WIDOW'S RETINUE 
 
 Page 18: dew-laps: the fold of skin that hangs from the throat 
 of oxen and cows. 
 
 Page 18: varlet: rascal. 
 
 Page 19: curmudgeon: ugly fellow; churl. 
 
 Page 20: verjuice: the green sour juice of apples or grapes; 
 sourness. 
 
 Page 20: abigail: a general term for a lady's maid or servant. 
 When taking food to David, Abigail, the wife of Nabal, speaks 
 of herself as "thine handmaid." For the story, see 1 Sam. 
 XXV, 12-41. 
 
 "Irving is a master of the art of description by compari- 
 son." Do you find anything in this sketch to warrant such 
 an assertion? 
 
 Note the great number of strong, picturesque adjectives in 
 this paper. 
 
 Words for study: factitious; robustious; ennui; motley; 
 pampered; zephyr; tart. 
 
114 EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 READY-MONEY JACK 
 
 Page 22 : seven-shilling pieces : one third of a guinea (see below). 
 This piece lias not been coined since 1813. 
 
 Page 22: guinea: an English gold coin issued between 1663 and 
 1813. It contained 21 shillings and was equal to about $5 
 in American money. 
 
 Page 22: roaring blades: the following three sentences suffi- 
 ciently explain the phrase. 
 
 Page 22 : Pinner of Wakefield : the chief character in Rob- 
 ert Greene's comedy, George-a-Greene, the Pinner of Wakefield, 
 first printed in 1599. A pinner, or pinder, was a man ap- 
 pointed to take charge of the village pound, a pen or fold 
 in which he placed stray cattle and sheep. 
 
 Page 23: the green: the village common, or park. 
 
 Page 24: in at the death: Tibbets is one of the fastest and 
 hardest riders in the chase, so that he is well up with the 
 hounds when the fox is killed. 
 
 Page 25: "gives his little senate laws ": cf. Pope's Epistle to 
 Arbuthnot, lines 206-207. 
 
 " Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 
 And sit attentive to his own applause." 
 
 Page 25: Bartholomew fair: a famous fair formerly held at 
 Smithfield in London on St. Bartholomew's Day, August 24. 
 It was first instituted in 1133, and ceased to be held in 1855. 
 (Well worth further examination in a large encyclopaedia.) 
 
 Page 25: Samson . . . among the Philistines: the story of 
 Samson should be familiar to every one. Cf. Judges xxiii- 
 xxvi. 
 
 Page 26: Friar Tuck, or . . . Robin Hood: Robin Hood was 
 an outlaw and popular hero said to have lived in the twelfth 
 century in Sherwood and Charnwood forests. His most 
 famous companions were Friar Tuck, Maid Marian, Little 
 John, and Allen-a-Dale. He is a favorite subject in the old 
 English ballads, and is often associated with May-Day fes- 
 tivities. Cf. the character of Locksley in Scott's Ivanhoe. 
 
 Page 26: old Tusser: Thomas Tusser, an early English poet 
 (1527?-1580?). 
 
 What does Irving mean on page 25 when he says: "petty 
 disputes . . . which otherwise might have been nursed — 
 into tolerable lawsuits"? 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 115 
 
 What gives this sketch its particular merit? 
 
 Mention five characteristics of Ready-Money Jack which 
 seem to you marked. 
 
 Words for study : potentate ; yeoman; physiognomy; wake; 
 tartar. 
 
 STORY-TELLING 
 
 Page 27: the Wandering Jew, etc.: these four mysterious per- 
 sonages of history whom Irving mentions have interesting 
 and peculiar stories connected with them which should be 
 looked up in Chambers's Book of Days, or in any large ency- 
 clopaedia of names. 
 
 THE STOUT GENTLEMAN 
 
 Page 29: Derby: the small town of Irving 's day was in 1905 a 
 city of 125,000. It is in north central England, on the Der- 
 went River. 
 
 Page 29: wall-eyed: having a large, staring, whitish eye. 
 
 Page 29: drab: a coarse girl; a slattern. 
 
 Page 30: an upper Benjamin: a top-coat, or overcoat formerly 
 worn by men. 
 
 Page 30: Boots: the servant in an English inn who blacks the 
 boots and shoes of guests. 
 
 Page 31: the Lady's Magazine, or "entertaining companion 
 for the fair sex, appropriated solely to their use and amuse- 
 ment," was published at intervals between 1773 and 1819. 
 It was one of the first magazines published for women. 
 
 Page 32: ycleped: called; named. The past participle of an 
 obsolete verb, clepe. 
 
 Page 32: hipped: melancholy; gloomy. 
 
 Page 34: slammerkin: a coarse woman. 
 
 Page 34 : nincompoop : blockhead; simpleton. 
 
 Page 34 : Whig . . . radical : names of political parties in 
 England in Irving's time. See note on Radical, page 86. 
 
 Page 34: Hunt: probably Leigh Hunt (1784-1859), English 
 poet and essayist, the friend of Keats, Shelley, and Byron. 
 He is remembered chiefly perhaps by his poem, Abou Ben 
 Adhem. In politics Hunt was an extreme radical. 
 
 Page 37 : Belcher : a neckerchief of dark blue cloth with large 
 white spots. So called from an English pugilist, Jim Belcher, 
 of Irving's day. 
 
116 EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 Page 37: Highgate: a suburb of London on a hill to the north 
 
 of the city. 
 Page 37: negus: punch. 
 Page 38: incog.: incognito, i. e., in disguise. 
 Page 39: cabbaged: shaped like a cabbage-head. 
 
 Study carefully the opening paragraph of this story. What 
 is there about this description that is remarkable? How does 
 Irving emphasize the dreariness and the wetness of the Sun- 
 day in the tavern? 
 
 Examine the paragraphs for their construction, especially 
 for the way in which they are often built up from " topic-sen- 
 tences." 
 
 How does Irving excite the reader's curiosity and interest? 
 What is the spirit, or tone, of this paper? 
 
 Words for study: pattens; seethed; purlieus; militant; ob- 
 streperous; dudgeon; termagant; publicans; negus; plethoric. 
 
 THE FARM-HOUSE 
 
 Page 42: the Prodigal Son: see St. Luke xv, 11-32. 
 Page 44: " Marry come up! " a phrase formerly used to express 
 contempt or surprise. 
 
 What knowledge of English life do you gain from this ac- 
 count of the quarrel between Dame Tibbets and the house- 
 keeper? 
 
 Words for study : paling; notable; blunderbuss; confidant; 
 vapo rings. 
 
 FALCONRY 
 
 Page 46: Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt: three great battles 
 in which the English defeated the French. Fought in 1346, 
 1356, and 1415. 
 
 Page 46: Braithwaite: Richard Braithwaite, an early English 
 writer of little note (1588?-1673). 
 
 Page 46: tassel-gentel : a male falcon that has been trained. 
 
 Page 47: Juliana Barnes: said to have written one of the first 
 books printed in England, — The Boke of Saint Albans (1486) • 
 It contained essays on hawking and hunting. 
 
 Page 47: Markham: a minor English author (1568?-1637). 
 
 Page 48: in terrorem: as a warning. 
 
 Page 48: secundem artem: according to rule. 
 
 Page 49: Snowden . . . Penmanmawr: two famous mountains 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 117 
 
 of Wales, the former (3590 ft.) the highest in Great Britain 
 
 south of Scotland. 
 Page 49: Don Quixote: the hero of the world- renowned Don 
 
 Quixote, by the Spanish writer Cervantes (1547-1616). 
 Page 50: Old Nimrod: "He was a mighty hunter before the 
 
 Lord." (Cf. Genesis x, 8-9.) 
 
 Words for study: cloth-yard shaft; jesses ; tapestry; untract- 
 
 ahle; refractory ; arrant; raked; agog. 
 
 HAWKING 
 
 Page 50: rantipole: wild, unruly. 
 
 Page 51: galloway: a breed of horses of small size first raised 
 in Galloway, Scotland. 
 
 Page 51: Blenheim: a village in Bavaria, where in 1704 the 
 English and Germans defeated the French. Cf. Southey's 
 poem, After Blenheim, and Addison's verses. The Campaign. 
 
 Page 53: Robin Good-fellow: a well-disposed spirit, or fairy, 
 the child of Oberon, king of fairyland. Compare the brownie 
 of Scotland and Shakespeare's Puck. 
 
 Page 53: this local habitation of an " airy nothing ": cf. Shake- 
 speare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, V, i, 16-17. 
 
 Page 53: Webster: John Webster (1580-1624), a dramatist of 
 Shakespeare's day, noted for his tragedies. 
 
 Page 53 : urim and thummim : literally, lights and perfections. 
 Certain objects, possibly precious stones, kept inside the 
 so-called breastplate of the Jewish high priest of the first 
 temple. They seem to have been connected with oracular 
 responses given by him. Little that is certain is known 
 about them. 
 
 Page 53 : rose : by using this rare form of the past participle 
 Irving gives an antique flavor to the essay. 
 
 Page 54: hood: a covering for the hawk's head which pre- 
 vented it from seeing the game until the hunters wished it to 
 
 fly- 
 
 Note the paragraph construction of this chapter. 
 
 Professor Jowett once said, "Sentences should be like the 
 links of a chain, not like beads on a string." Can you explain 
 what this means and illustrate your explanation by the sen- 
 tences of this story? Try to do the same with "The Stout 
 Gentleman," "Gipsies," and others. 
 
 Words for study: grange; quarry; carrion; mercenary; nos- 
 trums ; commiserate; equitation. 
 
118 EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 FORTUNE-TELLING 
 
 Page 58: baggage: "a romping, saucy girl"; a flirt. 
 
 Page 58: Zounds: contraction of God's wounds. An oath com- 
 mon in the eighteenth century. 
 
 Page 59 : Doncaster : a town in the West Riding of Yorkshire, 
 for many years the scene of famous horse races. 
 
 Page 61 : " God save the King ": the Enghsh national anthem, 
 first played in 1740. The words and music were both com- 
 posed probably by Henry Carey. The tune was afterward 
 used as the Danish, Prussian, German, and American na- 
 tional air. 
 
 With this sketch read Addison's Spectator, No. 130, for an 
 account of a similar experience. 
 
 Words for study: volubility; banter ; roister; oracular; joint' 
 ure; wag; curricle. 
 
 GIPSIES 
 
 Page 62: " minion of the moon ": cf. Shakespeare's Henry /F, 
 Part I, I, ii: "gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon.* 
 Minion = favorite. 
 
 Page 62: scape-goat: an interesting word to examine in any 
 large dictionary. See also Leviticus xvi. 
 
 Page 63: morris-dancer: the morris-dance of the seventeenth 
 century was an elaborate, costumed performance, or mas- 
 querade, in which dancing played an important part. 
 
 Page 63 : Saturnalia : in ancient Rome the festival of Saturn, 
 celebrated in December with feasting and revelry among all 
 classes; somewhat similar to the American "Thanksgiving 
 Day." 
 
 Page 66: the old song: from Shakespeare's As You Like It, 
 II, V. 
 
 Page 66: Robin Good-fellow: see note to page 53. 
 
 Page 66: Robin Hood: see note to page 26. 
 
 The subject of this essay is well worth further examination. 
 An admirable article on gipsies may be found in the New 
 International Encyclopoedia. See, also, George Borrow's The 
 Gypsies in Spain, and Addison's paper in the Spectator, No. 
 130. 
 
 Words for study: purlieus; nocturnal; adroit; augury; pen- 
 sively ; fallacy ; conjure; depredate; lithe; denizens; oracles; bane. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 119 
 
 VILLAGE WORTHIES 
 
 Page 67: factotum: see note to page 4. 
 
 Page 67: jumps: see note to page 2. 
 
 Page 67: Caesar: the greatest of Roman generals and rulers 
 
 (100 b. C.-44 B. c). 
 Page 68: phthisical: wasting of the flesh; here simply wearing, 
 
 or tiresome. 
 Page 68: " make night hideous ": cf. Hamlet, I, iv. Also Pope's 
 
 Dunciad, line 165. 
 Page 68: Flying Island of Laputa: the story of this island is in 
 
 the third voyage of Gu/ii'yer's Travels, by Jonathan Swift (1726). 
 Can you write imaginary sketches of other village worthies? 
 Words for study: fHe; alacrity ; vivacious; superannuated ; 
 
 pensioner; quadrant ; sententious. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 Page 71: monarch of all he surveyed: cf. Cowper's poem, The 
 Solitude of Alexander Selkirk, the first line : " I am monarch of 
 all I survey." 
 
 Page 73: old Scottish song: Robert Burns's famous song, Auld 
 Lang Syne. 
 
 Page 73 : the rod of empire : cf . Gray's Elegy Written in a Coun- 
 try Churchyard, stanza 12: — 
 
 "Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed." 
 
 What do you think of Irving's reflections in the last two 
 paragraphs? Is he speaking possibly from experiences of his 
 own? 
 
 Note the use of the words however and therefore in this 
 sketch. 
 
 Words for study: laggard; wistfully; wicket; cosmopolite. 
 
 THE ROOKERY 
 
 Page 75: cousins-german : first or own cousins. 
 
 Page 76: ** their hands ": cf. Genesis xvi, 12. 
 
 Page 80: "with all its chivaby ": see Campbell's ballad, Ho- 
 
 henlinden. 
 Page 80: posse comitatus : a law term which means, " the armed 
 
 force of the country." 
 
120 EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 Page 81: "all abroad": cf. Thomas Sterahold's Version of 
 
 Psalm CIV. 
 Page 82: maugre: in spite of (obs.). 
 Page 83: anchorite: hermit; recluse. 
 
 How does Irving arouse the reader's interest in the rooks? 
 
 What comment would you make upon the style of this essay? 
 Words for study : predatory ; gibbeted ; withy ; assiduity; 
 
 avidity ; derogates ; delinquency ; depredation ; filch ; derogatory ; 
 
 august; bumpkins; misanthrope; foray ; plebeian; ethereal; 
 
 querulous. 
 
 MAY-DAY 
 
 Page 84: King Arthur: a British chieftain of the fifth and sixth 
 centuries about whom numberless legends grew during the 
 Middle Ages. The "excellent romance" is Sir Thomas Mal- 
 ory's Morte d' Arthur, printed by Caxton in 1485. 
 
 Page 84: Queen of May: the village girl chosen to preside over 
 the May-Day festivities. Read here Tennyson's beautiful 
 poem, " The May Queen." 
 
 Page 84: morris -dancers : See note to page 63. 
 
 Page 84: Maid Marian: see note to page 26. 
 
 Page 86; " minion of the moon " : see note to page 62. 
 
 Page 86: lazaroni: idlers, beggars. 
 
 Page 86: raking: joking. 
 
 Page 86: Lothario: a character in Nicholas Rowe's play. The 
 Fair Penitent, first acted in 1703. One of the other characters 
 calls him "that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario." 
 
 Page 86: the radical: in politics, one who thinks that every- 
 thing is wrong as it is, and who believes in reform carried to 
 extreme measures. The opposite of conservative. 
 
 Page 88: a match at grinning: in the eighteenth century, prizes 
 were sometimes given at country fairs to those who could 
 grin in the most grotesque or ridiculous manner. Cf. Addi- 
 son's Spectator, No. 173. 
 
 Page 88: Cobbett: a noted English radical, who, when Irving 
 wrote Bracebridge Hall, was famous for his bitter attacks 
 upon the government in his magazine, The Weekly Political 
 Register. 
 
 Page 91 : vi et armis: by main force. 
 
 Words for study : agog ; laconic ; loquacious ; notorious ; re- 
 connoitre ; truncheon ; logician ; proselyte ; excursive ; infallible; 
 recreant ; pique ; sententious ; intrepid. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUESTIONS 121 
 
 THE CULPRIT 
 
 Page 93: seraglio: confused here, as often, with "harem." Of 
 course Irving means simply, "his whole flock of hens or 
 wives." 
 
 Page 96: sibyl: fortune-teller. A word with an interesting his- 
 tory. 
 
 Page 97: exacerbation: aggravation; excess. 
 
 Page 97: mittimus: a warrant of commitment to prison. 
 
 Page 98: virago: a bold, impudent woman. 
 
 Notice in this sketch the "easy grace, the spirit, the sly 
 humor," which have justly made Irving's essays classic. 
 
 Why do the people at the Hall sympathize with Star-light 
 Tom? How, in your opinion, did he escape? What does the 
 reference to "one of the squire's best hunters" suggest to 
 you? 
 
 Words for study : posse ; dubious ; intimidated ; irruption; 
 coadjutor ; peevish ; obsolete ; delinquent ; beldame; palliation ^ 
 execrations; paroxysm; tatterdemalion. 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 Page 101 : Ruth: Book of Ruth i, 16. 
 
 Page 108: deity: that is, Cupid, who was worshipped by the 
 
 Romans as the God of love. 
 Page 109: Nimrod: see note to page 50. 
 Page 109: Hymen: in classical mythology the god of marriage, 
 
 generally represented as carrying a torch when presiding over 
 
 wedding ceremonies. 
 
 Note the skill with which Irving brings his visit to a close. 
 
 How is the spirit of the whole book well illustrated by this 
 
 concluding sketch? 
 
 Words for study: tenantry; rosemary; dulcet; pandean 
 
 pipes ; faun ; dryad ; mannikin ; mollify ; wry. 
 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A 
 
Man i^ 1210 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
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