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BY OAK AND THORN
THE DAY OF HIS YOUTH. A
HOUGHTON. MIFFLIN &
CO. I1. f i.
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON./p
OAK AND THORN
. MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
By ALICE BROWN. U.
Electrotyped and Printed by
The Riverside Press. O.Copyright.. S. Houston & Co-
Ali rigJUs reserved. H.
18(36. Mass. Cambridge.
MY GOOD COMRADES
SHARED THE FOOTPATH WAY
In Praise of Gypsying
The Food of FAncy A Still Hunt The Pilgrim in Devon The Haunt of the Doones The Land of Arthur The Bronte Country The Quest of a Cup An Unresisted Temptation
Latter-day Cranford Under the Great Blue Tent
wherever hie The traveling mountains of the sky.
For one and
Will lead you where you wish to go And one and all go night and day
and far away
the streams in civil
Direct your choice upon a road.
or high or low.'
Robert Louis Stevenson.:
" Then follow you.
For there works a sweet languor and at the same time a
quickening within the blood the spirit given over to melancholy. Conscience is dead within us.
and one born to a climate of unchanging peace would scarcely know what it might portend. spread lavishly upon green hedges.
to fret us. " What avails it. or. " that we labored all winter within the
. and alternately to joyance.BY OAK AND THORN
IN PRAISE OF GYPSYING
listlessly. with the youth of the year. hath come a strange longing upon the
hearts and within the veins of
tures living. if it
. and while columbines nod bravely.
stay indoors while
forming within the green of the bud." we cry.
and over-sea the may
is whitening well her fairy smock. and the lips fit themselves easily to snatches of old song.
" And therefore.
ever at this season.
doth inform the whole.
blessed gypsy blood. not. we know ing us ever onward. " to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive. we care not for. and if we have but one drop of
when one has tuned
. our songs are sung yet what living soul is the better for our travail ? Children are we that play at shaping a creation of our own. sick with the vanity of our seriousness. and with one spring-attired birchtree set against a background of pine puts to shame all the conceptions of art. that." (They that know not spring may finish the line. while without us the ever-mutable yet ever-living makes unto itself red sunsets.
." but we who be gypsies will toss this tiresome tag into the next thicket. and all moralizing have we forsworn. like
quicksilver.BY OAK AND THORN
prisoning of four dull walls
are written. to the effect that "the true success is to labor. do we turn the hearing inward and listen to the throbbing of swift-pulsing currents and their measure is that of a jocund march drawWhere. It smacks of the school-room.
. as one great among wizards truly declares.
masquerading as hopes. but never that 3f conformity to the world .
thfen. and let Whittier equalize the wanderer's lot with that of him
from the moment when the tassel droops first on th'e alder to that when the last crimsoned maple leaf flutters down the wind."
IN PRAISE OF GYPSYING
his ear to listen. as to the young
— contained within —
birds on the rim of the nest." that he who stays at. gile vial of man's being " Come " she cries to us." and make
their rallying note. and step gayly forward to the tune of " Summer Let Emerson assure us is icumen in.
to the wild
life.discerning eye. full
. ** house by the hedge. in one guise or another. home hath as great a share of the universe as he that travels abroad. " Come and follow " What loving sympathy
have we now for that happy band who. the voice of bird and
"Come!" and the saiHng clouds Follow " Memories don brave attire. Nayet
contradicts it. "
" who from his doorway sees The miracle of flowers and trees.
words are empty
BY OAK AND THORN
upon such her. commonly called the King of the Beggars. whereof one line conambition. Born respectably. and we. He joined the gypsies he received the crown of
and became their Lustily rang the inauguration ode at his crowning. and like joyous pioneers cleft the way to his desires. Glorious and historic precedent have we
vagrom became aweary
desires. he would fain have had it otherwise).
eternal while the sun
shines and the
king. in some moment of weakness. books shall be forsworn
taineth the whole philosophy of
(beggars). let it be that excellent work. he followed his star to the greenwood. and there out-gypsied the gypsies.
if we be worthy.
itage of delight. pick up the crumbs of their festival. the son of a rector (alas good youth. or
suddenly alive to the divine
JEneas was message
. love and longing not to be withstood marched ever before him. we long for the old vice of print. the life of Bampfylde-Moore Carew.
dear pilgrim. that he showed so clean a pair of heels.^neas was safe on waves no Salter than Dido's tears. yet only after he had been
. whether he be moved by gods or ennui?).
what did he do ? Marry. yet under a sun more beguiling than her smiles. and set sail I Potent The mariners pulled with lusty phrase
will. when this same paste-
board hero was minded
pedestal whereon poor Dido had set him. reads the tale.
the sea sparkled. say I. in quitting Circe and Calypso.
. he kicked down the altar. and their bribes of gilded ease ? Rather had he tired of island life he was ready to be up and away.at . Possibly.
nerva appeared to him.IN PRAISE OF GYPSYING
(and who can tell.homes were ever deputed to do the weeping be warned. and buckle on your shoon Ulysses of wily memory was he animated solely by a virtuous desire for home-made cakes and ale. deserter of Ariadne and the Isle of Naxos it was never in obedience to the gods. in the case of any mortal man. Misprang
a jolly breeze
and . scattered the ashes of her hopes. Stay . smoking with the sacrifice of her queenly devotion.
ments even the Crusader seems not so much enkindled with the passion for rescuing earth's holy spot. or to cool the
fever of his youth
Strange suspicions awaken in us when the distance wooes. Jason was a shrewd merchant.
. not even in the prisoning of rosy arms " sang his Viking soul. He was the bird of passage of a prayerhis scallop shell. a hardy adventurer. of the true At such movalues of ancient tales. though spendthrift of time and strength.
" Bind me with no fetters. a more adventurous way than that of him who has newly enslaved himself to love. for his gray and broken age.BY OAK AND THORN
moved by dreams of a swifter flight. but of a natural delight such as those hemmed in by " four gray walls " can never know. all unwonted. were symbols not only of a yearning faith and abiding constancy.
. and spring airs blow soft doubts. his staff and ful time sandals. as a wanderer moved by vague desire of foreign lands and sweetly new experience one who. To run the finger further down the margin of the past is to find 6
. yet sought he
Golden Fleece. a casket of golden memories. would yet store up.
and sailed the sea with the best of her merry men.
but as " a pin's fee. and Fortune was with them. and their own stout hearts their best companioning.
. what wild advenElizabeth queened it in England when she would fain have taken sword in hand." not the less did they pursue continual change for pure
for the quieting of their per-
spirits. no Hesperides in imagined view. This moment of the opening bud is that for which we have endured our months
. and live the life of niderings and them that be easily content. and drinking deep of the desire of life. counterpart of the
they who would truly live.
This was the Watiderjahr
of their time. but not for that will we fold our hands at home. They fought for crown and faith (and booty. And for us ? There are no sacred tombs to deliver. let not that be forgot ) but though the peace of Christendom was the laurel leaf for which they held life
. lived on the wing. and perhaps not even one soul to be rescued and deserted in the light-hearted fashion of our mythic forbears .IN PRAISE OF GYPSYING
what burning names. killing the Spaniard.
let us go out. and the secret of which no cunning can divine. To lie beneath the open sky. and face the wild rose unshamed. and ringing in our ears shall be one or another majestic chant.
BY OAK AND THORN
The chrysalis hath fulof servitude. and soar will go or flutter as his nature bids. tippling on fragrance and lulled by the foolish bees. that shall be our desire and our deIf we may sail the seas that have light. in that our lives have grown serene and natural as hers. somehow. look and listen. to hang odes on the blossoming cherry. whether to sit among the limes and yews of Stratford churchyard. and the baths
. and walk the shores of golden memories. we are blest indeed but whatever be our station. not
beyond the sunset.. cradled heroes. filled its destined use. Somewhere. we will wander. or in a New England pasture. to mark the rhythm of murmuring treetops. like the solemn prophecy of a greater hope and a more splendid journey
forth. but to seek that beauty which the hand of man hath not made.
perchance like a wiser race. and now the creature hath his wings to fly away.
IN PRAISE OF GYPSYING
the western stars. whom we knew. until I die. And see the great Achilles."
may be that the gulfs will wash us down It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles.
especially when we have set
. So that it becomes the wise to refrain from considering eating as an
him who only
eats to live. so
into a contemplative and poetic delight. and only such may fitly couple the etheSo by real with the grossly utilitaria». every homely act gains a new significance and unfamiliar food fits itself.
nitrogen. not only to the nourishment of corporeal particles. it fell to
Aldrich to link the praise of "dreamy words" and "very pleasant eating." His was the good word. but to that spiritual life wherewith we draw our only vital breath.
forth on pilgrimage to inherit the earth.
such days. even in the happy world of verse.THE FOOD OF FANCY
Few are the pens of perfect technique. a good-fortune not always regnant. far from the mahoganywe left behind us. for he was born to see and sing but ours shall be the joyous deed.
such a topic
impossible to speak lO
as a unit whose yea would fain. of pure delight can rival the English strawberry ? the only sort of immortal joy you can buy by the pound." so also nothing short of an irresponsive palate can deprive us of that flavor underlying the rosy
. or to shield one's self be-
hind the egotistical bulwark of the ediIt is necessary to betake us torial we. be simply yea. in this matter. save to his own self-limited delight ? To speak straitly. And though. The earliest May-blossom.
.buoyant wave of tabledelight. wraith-pictures from the land of dreams the first English gooseberry tart stood forth a more substantial but no less joyous herald of welcome to a soil whose heroes have ever held tankard and trencher in honorable What fruit this side the land repute. then.
. individually to the small go-cart of the for who ever ate altruisfirst person tically. alas no purveyor shall henceforth bring us tribute from the garden of " my lord of Ely. quivered in white before my seeking eyes. or chewed the cud of a foreign flavor.THE FOOD OF FANCY
impersonally. the first English daisy. I frankly avow that my shallop of joy in English travel was upborne upon an ever .
even the specific milk
. on the banks of Itchen. so grown beyond though lacking nothing of tenderness and fragrance.
fruit. most delectable product of the red-soiled south. and learn the tricks of the dairy from a thousand years' inheritance." You shall have Devon cattle. gave us the recipe for the clotted cream.
later in this progress of delight. And so
ard. In Devon. that we measured its bulk with a wisp of grass. that a
matron. It was at Ilfracombe. their nectarous juices enriched and softened with clotted cream. as a country lass by her hot-house sister. some eaten in an exquisite dairyshop off the cathedral close.
corpulent was the
reason. more strawberries.BY OAK AND THORN
even in the days of Tyrant RichI ate my first strawberry from a little basket (you know the shape. else your cream will turn out a plain and wholesome compound of the taste of scalded and no charm. and set off by cloying junket. and sent the boastful girth home to one who would have been with us. had the gods dealt tenderly. pink of cheek and gown. at Exeter. dear pilgrim !) in a field bordering the Nun's Walk. But you cannot "bring home the river and sky.
and we went away with
. " Weal pie. a culinary disappoint-
lay coldly in wait. Weller.THE FOOD OF FANCY
furnished the guileless
Annie by Coun-
Doone. zame as I hardered " but there was no time last Tuesday for the cooking.' " said Mr. too. We would fain have duplicated John Fry's order. was in a
shall avail you.
John Ridd as he rode home from school across the moors.
" Solid and satisfying. "'Hot mootton pasty.' But the verdict of the American palate was altogether favorable." says retrospect. from his time forth.
and is quite sure it ain't kittens.
little Warwick shop that I made one with weal and 'am
so cunningly traWeller that no one may eat it. as he arranged the eatables on " Wery good thing is a weal the grass. on the occasion of his standing up like a pixy in the dark.
duced by Sam
pleasant. soliloquizing. '
. without a premonitory shudder.
At Dulverton. and shouting prophetic defiance to the
when you know the
it. "Much like
the British character.
You who have trodden English bypaths and fallen in with ancient ways. save for the perpetuating of sacred lore and setting before the reverent palate hot collops of venison. one viand embalmed in story Let his name be anathema. Moreover. did you ever eat English buns without a jingling mental accompaniment to the tune of the old nursery rhyme ? And
though you consumed them luxuriously
shops. to what end should Devon kitchens exist. not in all Devon did mention of pickled loaches. no tickling of the palate under new combinations can compensate for the starving
as were approved
of the soul. have asked. or a For sauce to outrival Worcestershire. though he invent a thousand modern trifles. such
by its tutelary giant.
the love whereof first led little John into the Doone Valley.!
BY OAK AND THORN
the sacred rite undone. went to the nourishing Shame on him who of his mightiness ? would remove one guidepost of the culinary past. we might ignoring inhabitants. do more than rouse a wondering look on the face of the mythBut. or
staff that other variety to
by all the past eating you have ever done. O seekers of inward joy. pineapple. it will linger. And north and south the traditionary riches of the kitchen shall be yours. evidently without the meat. for no Banbury cake ever did its spiriting gently but in the end. but compensating for all conventional Without lack by fruits and spices. sort of mixed flavor of
cherry-tart. For in Derbyshire. "a. a spicy savor. when you come upon a classic dish. you pass it not by. in your happy memory. roast tur-
Banbury. of the genus tart. having. toffy. to your own enlarge-
ment of vision. doubt it will trouble your dreams. beside the Cornish sea. when absence shall have softened every harsh detail of that English journey. yellow with saffron. as one greater than the world of realists hath said.THE FOOD OF FANCY
be found. You shall eat haggis and scones in Scotland. and hot buttered toast. were they not soul-satisfying and plummy ? I charge you. you shall eat Bakewell
. you may purchase the unholy Banbury cake. which is no less than a superlatively rich mince turnover. custard. that.
. or possibly farther afield among the Shakespeare haunts.
All this may you have for the paltry exchange of shillings but. Her chops. You shall eat chad from Lake Windermere. even the prince of the power of imagina.
to resuscitate that. and so hold historic lien upon it by courtesy only. shall tell their own story of growth in fields fat with yellow mustard blooms. unconscious that such sunny joy is decreed but for the flavoring of tissue. their innocent heads protruding above the crust).BY OAK AND THORN
roast goose and apple-sauce wherever you can get them. upon whitebait and Richmond maids-ofhonor. star-gazing pie in
Cornwall (filled with pilchards. as for the salmi put together by the weaving fingers of Becky Sharp for her bamboozled brother-in-law. though she import it from Australia or America. where the innocent sheep hourly nibble and munch. . like all your generation and the fathers of the English-speaking race. i6
. in memory of the Roman legions who carried that royal family thither and everywhere shall you bow down before old England's roast beef. and go. to dine at the Star and Garter. to Richmond. of a thickness and succulence unknown in the golden West.
No bread and beer in England mingle such savor of lovely past and present as the bit and sup making up the dole of Saint Cross Hospital." you cross the meadow from Winchester by ways parcel . awed with peace and " soft as bees by Catherine Hill. it keeps the memory of that day when I first bent over the opulent. where the river dreams of gentle things and the breath of cattle scents the air.gilt with golden mimulus. in
nearness to the custodian's blue china within the lodge (china which
is not for you !) and neighbored by the green quadrangle where the gowned brethren go pottering about in serene relinquishment of care. For me. too. and served to any wayfarer at the open hatch. you linger at will (so you come but once a day !) sipping your horn cup as it were elixir. There.
. This is no bread and beer alone. when. but a heartening food. homely flower-beds. holding all the flavor of that idyllic walk.THE FOOD OF FANCY
salmis are dead and gone with Becky and the snows of yester-year. and asked the brother whose art was gardening what name he gave
the ladies' -delights cosily settled there. a magic draught.
whereupon tuppence each turned
the loiterers into mussel-eating monarchs. miss " rang the concerted
. in some courteous interest that one could call them otherwise.?" asked we with the humility of the non-elect. meantime. " Mussels. fraternal over a maiden effort and solicitous for the fame of Devon. and mentally repelling the simile of ossified spiders The waiter stood by.
Shakespeare's love .in . not knowing his kind. His self-forgetful joy when the venture was made and we vowed our fealty then and there to the worthy crustacean
despoil us of the day
when we halted before a mediaeval-seeming shop near old
Bristol's Christmas Steps.BY OAK AND THORN
" Lublidles. staring hard at the winkles. cockles and mussels in the
are the nicest. where we attacked him gingerly. and read the longing on the faces of three children standing there without." he returned.idleness In spots be thankful the world does not move. What memories are ours of the first crab essayed at Seaton.
THE FOOD OF FANCY
of US will never set eyes
London barrows loaded with
on the marine
delicacies without choking reminiscence
of a certain expedition planned, gloated over in the night-watches and never accomplished. For we had invited a lady of social high degree, who knows only poetic and fashionable London, and for whom the City is a myth, to vouchsafe us one day wherein to show her the World and the joys thereof. She should ride on the tops of 'buses, she should be presented to the Duke of Suffolk's head,
Gog and Magog, and pause before the tree " at the corner of Wood Street." But alas in
resident in the Minories, salute
a moment of ill-judged prophecy we referred to the mussels of Shoreditch to be purchased from a barrow and dipped and being daintily in the public vinegar nurtured, thenceforth she would none of
our unholy pranks.
Milk is no uncommon beverage, yet sometimes it has a taste of all Arcadia. One June day when we were on the march brought us to the Welsh paradise of Montgomery, where Magdalen Herbert's castle heights are standing, crownless, wonderful. We were entering the
BY OAK AND THORN
weary (and with no time for food, for there were many miles to tramp, that night, before we got home to our den, O) and there, providentially meeting us, came a clean woman driving a clean cow into a tidy Never was bargain more swiftly yard. sealed. She disappeared to bring two bright glasses and a quart measure. She milked and we, throned on a strip of turf, drank, while round about us thronged the village children, solemnly
village foot-sore but never
classifying two gaitered, short-skirted and apparently hollow monsters. That was milk such as they drink on Olympus when Hebe serves, though possibly only a cut above the draughts permanently on tap, for a penny or for love, at farm-house
go gypsying. to find mushrooms on the Stratford Road and to smell them, one strange Dorset day, through a choking mist through which the trees seemed walking toward us as we went. How good must elf-men be, we said, to set a banquet there for such as are born with eyes and nose We have learned the soul-satisfying quality of raw turnips,
We are wise, we who We have known what is
THE FOOD OF FANCY
for we fed thereon, one hungry, happy have lived. afternoon in Kent. Certain harmless fictions dominate the English mind regarding the national
"victuals." Smile over them, and enjoy the more. You may long for apples, and " seek all day ere you find them " for the English apple, as it appears in the
market, is prone to show a degree of hardness known to us in no article of " I like a food save sugar gooseberries. good tasty apple meself," said an English wench, setting white teeth into a knurly " something to bite on " She pippin had it a baby foreordained to gums You might have cut molars upon it.
ask plaintively for vegetables, in
ordering your dinner, to be answered daily, with a naive air of delighted disAnd should you covery, " Potatoes " hint at a larger ambition, a nobler quest,
you may count yourself proud and happy if the omnipresent pea is an available There candidate, albeit the only one. may be set before you a loathsome and
greasy compound with the encouraging dictum, "This is an American doughnut " (An historic introduction " PudRepudding. ding Alice Alice
BY OAK AND THORN
move the pudding
honor's sake, you deny the fallacy, you
shall eschew its ocular proof. Everywhere seek out the native and historic dish and some happy day, if Fortune fawn upon you, roasted crabs may hiss for you in the bowl, and you shall have saffron in the warden pies.
According to the popular voice. that the
tongues thereof daily served the castle
and lordlings for breakfast. we were accustomed to make
a worshipful pilgrimage
." we made careful inquiry where the bird of wonder might be sought. at nine o'clock. when you hear him ? Yes. but.!
A STILL HUNT
We would hear the nightingale." " They do said the optimistic landlady. KnOw one sing there most beautiful. indeed. the woods were full of nightingales I remember writing home. miss You can't mistake a nightingale " Like
love their gloriously mediaeval
and frankly dirty Warwick as she may be loved. was failure a handful of the summer's At Warwick. sure of place "and time agreeing. " Go down on the bridge. we had not the certainty of making literary capiFor us failure tal out of our ill-success. more slenderly equipped than John Burroughs in the same fine quest.
of emulous extravagance. miss. gold irretrievably wasted.
and no sister
So we dreamed until the dusk enfolded us. and we made our lady Countess of Warwick (Cophetua's immortal maid !) hung there in her sweet deserving upon the antiquity of the house like that rose upon the stabile wall. chiefly to steal
. and not one bourgeoning spray is less on the ruined bridge without the gates.
Little rosy breaths
from her petals. . Warwick Castle is never the same to me for that one rose is gone. That rose held strange emphasis in those Warwick days it played a part as real and
castle at twilight.. and then went happily on to the bridge.
BY OAK AND THORN
dreams from one pink rose hanging high on the castle wall and so it came about that our observance appropriately ended with the bridge and the greater quest.
wonderful as the role of princess in tales
of fairydom. grew into clouds of fantasy and enveloped us. as one may about a rose. Our minds walked dimly in a morning haze. And though I have been there since and the dirty white peacock flaunts
himself with the same ill-judged vanity. stoutflower could ever take her place. She suggested to us her who seemed to us then the Fairest of Women. We imagined much about her.
a lonely bit of
and they hold regular concerts there. I could
. miss } " quoth he. We need not have striven. there was nothing for us but to creep home.
put discouragement to shame. miss. know exactly where they sing. or whether it must melt into some strange wild note too untamable for even poets' paraphrasing. to bed. dallying with dampness and grave in discussion. When that liquid note was once entrapped. There we paced and leaned and lingered. I ingales. and his hopefulness
skies paled. went by last night. and they were a-singing away like everything. Then it was that we bethought us of confiding in an allknowing cab-driver. should we too find
and remember '^tjugtjug? We were summer.
and faded into dusk. how much more to be desired than great statecraft. We knew how vital it was. chilled and vanquished. to know whether her lamenting did so run. and always the same. " Night" Yes.
wise.A STILL HUNT
hearted in desire and belief. mile
or so out of
Defeated seekers of a wealth more to be desired than El Dorado. The question was of mighty import.
and John asked us respectfully. for 'arf a crown ever tempting bait more cunningly
? were caught. at the moment when my spinal marrow was properly
. they had tied flaring handkerchiefs about their necks."
BY OAK AND THORN
take you out. on a lonely and announced. They may have had some exalted idea of a practical joke they may have been afraid of the damp. save me.
drew up the horse. and had
guised. rattled away. I have not yet been able to decide why these two beguilers of the American purse came thus dis-
They had pulled their hats low over their eyes. save me " but I remembered the nightingale. too. Whether the nightingale was also mindful of us I know not. if there were not frequent murders in America. Hubert. miss.
turned up their collars at a murderous angle. and that night at ten o'clock. " This is the very place " I had nearly shrieked. drove up in state. he told us folktales of horror. and held my peace. with a friend on the box (both faithfully dressed to represent Rogue Riderhood villains).
bit of road. For one hour we but he was silent. yet with meaning.
. sepulchrally. and then. "O.
as compared with our American children. and there would they lead us. talking until the way grew lonely (and so provocative of hope). too. if we chose to go. but one night. we relinquished the quest. by the way. of the finely tempered fibre in little English lads. Instantly we were afoot with them in the moqnlit
dusk. still did they
insist that nightingales
were always makthat
ing musical clamor at
spot. They knew well where Philomel lamented on the Warwick Road.
With saddened hearts. cold and depressed. I am persuaded. using fine-spun words and phrasing with an absolute lack of pre. that never. our base guides assuring each other.
. sitting in the coffee-room of the Red Horse Inn. in all their lives. even in that short space. and then drove slowly homeward. we mentioned our forlorn pursuit before two young English boys. and learning something.A STILL HUNT
sat there. at Stratford.
They were knightly souls and ready. had they heard of such a circumstance. where the hedgerows smelled of
bloom. I cannot remember what they said only that they were very frank and very courteous (grown-up and bookish.
ex. They had rowed with him on the Avon he had evidently passed the silent
. fields on either side. William Winter. On and on we walked. yet the distance. fitted to the darkness and the hour." One passport to their consideration seemed to be the fact that. as Americans. And listen then
lonely corn-crake cried in
thick the bursts come crowding throngh the leaves Again thou hearest ?
should here assert that they had neighbored and played with the boys and girls of " The Golden Age.
and terrible scrutiny of a boy's ideals and been approved.
BY OAK AND THORN
tense) and that they breathed the essence
rarest in their nationality.
pectant. we were indubitably the countrywomen of Mr.
this year of grace. We talked less and less we listened. and sweetness of summer all about. 1896.
. as poetic guidebooks. her charms or her story then was his pen dipped in illuminating colors.
. and dry historic mention broadens into a sweep of verbal imagery. and he traced the outline of her beauties on a page that must endure until the memory of Devon lads no longer thrills the romance-loving heart.
. When guide-books wax eloquent over this fair county. pathy was perfect the light of his genius seems to brighten every golden thread in the fabric of her story and the traveler who loves such an unfailing lover can scarcely do better than to visit these happy haunts with " Westward Ho and the " Prose Idylls " in hand. Unlike many a memo."
blest with historian
region short of Arcadia was ever more enthusiastic
than Charles Kingsley whenever he touched upon Devonshire. and a footnote points to Kingsley as the His symsource of such just laudation. then are the paragraphs hedged between telltale quotation marks.
is one of nature's high altars." as the neighbors of Bow Bells declare.
luxuriance. with fine and almost depreciatory inflection. beautified by the hand of man. and cooled by clear moun. spread out into a fair garden. rolling waste. holding a peculiar power over the human spirit. this has a beauty that
own. but nevertheless every breath within its
borders inevitably exhilarates all who The English Midlands love a hero. clothed only by coarse but its clefts grass. Not only do the pages of its history rouse the heart to quicker pulsations by their review of the days when there were giants.
Devonshire is and moorland wastes
tain streams holding a multitude of fish
Dartmoor. and gaining grace
necessities. it in commotion and
a sea caught
fixed in everlasting re-
. and furze and chasms are enriched by a marvelous fern growth. waste
and wonderful.BY OAK AND THORN
Its stormy breaker. Devonshire may be "relaxing. heath. spread on and on. like Salisbury Plain. but even the face of nature seems here significant. within their limpid shallows.
A broad expanse. to be approached with rever-
ence and dread.
the fisherman fill his creel from its waters. and countless sheep nibble the unfenced pasturage but he whom it most delights
. unsatisfied. My own course over the moor led from
no one diversified by an ever-changeful pageant made from sunlit feather-down and clouds the color of a dove's gray wing. nevertheless.
the pilgrim who fares along its ways. mindless of aught save shifting cloud beauties and the outline of the billowing hills. Such a procession of airy loveliness awakens a wondrous sympathy in Dartmoor below. yet
house of varied wealth. by sapphire intervales.THE PILGRIM
pose. and then laughs outright under a golden shaft of sun. over its gigantic mounds and rocky remains. but
by a light that turns the heather to and transforms the coarse grass
rose. here arches
crystal vault of blue. chased
at its sunniest. The antiquary may ponder long.
of cultivation has never
bosom. What treasure-house of form
and color can match the English
to a hollow lies scowling in darkness and lo beside it a hill smiles. Over its tors sweep the shadows.
and themselves locked in a wonder of stone outwork and coping. " read and remember Plymouth is a town born for the per!
petual flaunting of England's glory. as if only Olympus were to be auditor and judge. "Come. Come. Straight across the sound to the
fortress. the 'O.BY OAK AND THORN
stock. or highest part of the esplanade and pleasure-grounds bordering the water. " Oh. and saying in every line of wall
"Behold my impregnable Should you. I
the tightening of Kingsley's grasp my hand. he will say substantially although not perhaps in the eccentric diction of one kindly woman.
well-defended pride. my lady. binding the
. on arriving there.
south runs the breakwater.
of Chagford to Tavithence to seek Plymouth and
." he seemed
" here was set the tiny stage to say whereon great parts were played.
I set foot in
that historic town. confide to some inhabitant your desire for a pleasant walk. looking calmly over the waves which are Britannia's own. you must go to the 'O " Half a mile from the station brings one to this Hoe. and keep reverent silence.
and replaced by the present structure. at whose firmness even its great projector. as morning after morning he clhnbed the Hoe. brings a parlous creeping along the spine even in
. may have wondered.
which. a perpetually honored pensioner. having been removed on account of its insecure base. miles out stands the Eddystone Lighthouse. stands. Companioned by it.THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
waves in such beneficent yet stony fetters lie tranquil and hospitable beFourteen fore the incoming mariner. to exult as he found the tower still piercing the sunrise mist. counterfeited in bronze. Smeaton's stood the shock of wind and water for over a century. on the site of an earlier triumph of engineering. was set up on the green-carpeted Hoe. The first lighthouse erected there was washed away. recited by old Devon dames at the hour when the thoughts of kid and old woman turn homeward. and overlooking fortress and wave. about whose memory clings to-day a legendary glory. and the second burned. and then.
the hero of the deep. The tale of the Eddystone Light has been one of varied tragedy. Smeaton. Sir Francis Drake. the scourge of Spain.
pier days. by force
of his magic arts.
Europe. by the simple process of obtaining a
grant from the queen. that afterglow sure to depict a vanished sunset more faithfully than painter's brush or poet's pen. might be anywhere
notice. because she feared "El Draque." that water dragon who. and the good-will
star. but what they will and more than all. like Napoleon in his hap.
. Was she not a prudent dame. but devil ? He had a soul perpetually drunken with belief in self and a passionate love of action he was one of those who do. the Spanish favorite who refused to join a water-party with Philip of Spain..
in Prester John's dominions
was he who brought water down into Plymouth from clear mountain sources. even at the risk of offending her sovereign.
BY OAK AND THORN
such as are able to
in the older novels as
doings read like fairy tales but better than them all do I love the folk-lore indicating his place in the common mind.
after reading Drake's exploits. not the things they can. that Spain
held him to be no man.
loving custom of the town is its
annual survey of the watercourse. and. and that being thus met. "when the Water was brought somewhere near the Town. which had been previously planned by others. he is never forgotten
in his capacity of
Plymouth's cup-bearer. came tumbling after. as he galloped down into Plymouth town. amply
. a docile Jill." Though some give Sir Francis the mere credit of taking the contract for the waterworks. Sir Francis mounted his great black horse. they all returned together. There he found a spring by Sheep's Tor. " And fine would have been the Diversion. and bid it welcome hither. But did such commonplace means suffice for the popular imagination ? Not in the least. where it has continued to do ever since. the Gentlemen of the Corporation accompanied with Sir Francis Drake. in their Formalities. went out to meet it. walked before. to have seen how the Mayor and his Brethren. the stream.THE PILGRIM
whose ground it must run. and the Stream followed after into the Town. and rode up into Dartmoor. it followed. He beckoned." says a worthy chronicler.
" At the Head Weir. and topped by one imperishable For "before separating. the mayor. and water committee." provided with trout taken from the stream. being filled with Wine. to set one to dreaming of that heroic past with which it forms a solid link. To the pious memory of Sir Francis Drake. 1891. and requests him to drink thereof." says this quaint and delightful memorial. who drinks to the Toast May the Descendants of him who brought us Water never want Wine. Another Goblet. is then presented by the Chamberlain to the Mayor. a bit of paper calculated." says custom. " Ye Lovynge Cuppe 36
. the programme. " the party be-
ing assembled.' Passing the Cup as before. who presents the same to the Mayor.BY OAK AND THORN
described in a programme of the ceremony. as it lies in the hand. and concluded by toasts to the royal family. dated July.' and passing the Cup from one to the other each drinks and repeats the same words." Then followed " Ye Fyshinge Feast. a Goblet filled with pure Water taken from the Weir by the Sur-
veyor is handed by him to the Chairman of the Water Committee.
of Combe Sydenham. But just as they were set. not go to church.
the token from Drake " exclaimed the
" He is alive I will unwilling bride. he threatened her with dire consequences should her fealty waver."
between the astonished
the impartial student of
tory will at once believe. believing him to be dead." Nor did she. Months stretched on in a weary chain. in the midst of a
violent thunder-storm. and the lady. and Drake himself soon appeared to requite
. Somerset and before leaving her in the temporary widowhood entailed by one of his voyages.
Sir Francis yet
story of Drake's marital influence
well suited to his
ment and generalship.
and prosperous as
reigned. and as usual hit his mark. His second wife was Elizabeth Sydenham.
ting forth to church. a ball of iron a foot in diameter fell hot on
pair. reluctantly accepted another suitor. the wronged husband had taken aim from the antipo" It is des.!
be passed in pledge of
Prosperity' to the
but I tell the tale as 't was told to me within the Devonshire borders. like many a lesser soul.
resented the perching of this uninvited guest on his family tree. within the verge of the court he gave
Sir Francis a box on the ear. Historians may be cheerfully allowed to have it otherwise. Thereupon Elizabeth. and borrowed. say that the incident occurred while the two were merely plighted lovers." It seems that.
bit of gossip the
Sir Francis would fain consign
lists of fiction. indeed. but even their dictum is less to be desired than the warm if distorted memories of an auld wife's
brain. when the feud had waxed fiery hot. a coat of
arms belonging to Sir Bernard Drake.
worshipers of to the
sober John Prince in his " Worthies of Devon. Some. head of an elder branch of the name. from whose line his own descent could Sir Bernard naturally not be traced. to speak in mildness. jealous for her favorite as only a woman can be. bestowed
.BY OAK AND THORN
her readiness in taking a hint. and one day. the admiral was at one time bitten by the fever of ancestry.
Kingsley's vivid description of Plyas it was in 1588. as well as the high cheek bones. indicating symbolically his dominion over the world of waters. in his portraiture of the men who were gathered in the town to await the arch enemy. by the picture of " a short. she could not give
Majesty could give Sir Francis a nobler him an
antienter one. copied from the crest of Sir Bernard. sturdy. so that you can
see the bullet head of crisp. the short square face. and hands behind his back. brown hair and the wrinkled forehead.
upon Sir Francis a vainglorious coat of arms all his own. and at the same time cunningly flouting
the elder line for in the rigging of the ship adorning the crest was a wyvern. looking up with keen gray eyes into the face of each speaker.
. His cap is in his hands. when the Invincible Armada undertook the demolition of Protestant Christendom.
Sir Bernard had the best of the matter in his neat retort that " though her
coat than his. is well
rounded. who stands with legs a little apart. but ignominiously hung by the heels. plainly dressed man.
the thick lips. for his name is Francis Drake.BY OAK AND THORN
the broad temples. self-possession. upon the ear of Drake. were They had grown unadvance and withthe
easy over conflicting rumors and Elizabeth's weathercock
drawal. beian stamp of man.
common sailor. which coarse.
eyes are turned respectfully upon him. from lord
high admiral to
tired of waiting. The English." And there on Plymouth Hoe was he playing at bowls when a sailor hurriedly put in shore. But who would attempt repeating the after-story which many have
needed the solace
? Suflfice it for us to recall the folk-version of the first scene in the grand drama.
. energy and when at last he speaks a few blunt words. to say that the enemy had been sighted. what did he reply } That he would play out his game. since there would afterwards be time enough and to spare for beating the Spaniard. pleare yet firm as granite. wherein the winds of heaven and the heroism of earth played
told so well
match on the Yet when the great word broke green. yet the whole figure and attitude are that of boundless determination.
over old Fuller's ironical remark that "the bear was not yet killed. unlike the crop of old !) fell upon the enemy of Gloriana the Great. had he no other clothes to wear than the
on the winning
feel " the pity of
skin thereof. speedily became men-of-war. as he threw them into the water." though we smile.
right of the Hoe. and Medina Sidonia might have catched a great cold. The stick he proceeded to chop into small pieces. say Plymouth dames. this
side. Sir Francis quietly called for a billet of
axe. He had an eye for
. wisely selected by the leader of the Armada for his own share of the spoils. a wilderness greenery overlooking the sea. perforce.
at this late day. When the Spanish fleet appeared.THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
antiphonal parts. and straightway destroyed him. with all our sympathies
we can but even so insolent an invader should thus have "loved a dream." It is easy to picture the delight with which the sea-wearied eyes of the Spanish mariners must have rested 41
Mount Edgcumbe. and these Devonian dragon's teeth (fraternal and benefi-
wood and an
more alive than ever
. At happy intervals are lodge and cottage. but to the errant
. is a miracle of beauty. smile upon you. in skirting the
cliff. crowned by a noble growth of trees. where the public is permitted to wander on specified days. Tracts of woodland alternate with garden beds rich in color. Sheer above the dimpling water rise mountainous cliffs. or ham and eggs (the bulwark of England's greatness) for another silver trifle. over the greenly wooded Drake's Island in the harbor. And if the sky.BY OAK AND THORN
this royal spot. and carpeted with sweet under-verdure. and a wondrous giant hypericum stars the ground with bloom. The great estate is traversed by broad walks and winding paths. you will take the little boat again for Plymouth quay. and the typical sight-seer be not omnipresent. such of it as you can see through the treetops. Laurel and holly reflect the day in their shining leaves.
and now and you may look
into the summer sea. apparently due not to design. where you may order delectable tea and plum-cake for sixpence.
again. after a dreamy half-day in the park. Mount Edgcumbe Park.
an " infinite swarm of expeditions. infinite journey. in its golden days. also. embarked. Quaint and dry are the
early chronicles of the town. in 1620. a voyage destined to stretch on into that other. broken-hearted. Sir John
point of his
dark but masterful career. from his last fatal expedition in quest of the golden
city of Manoa. denoting a
race of tough fibre. he would find an American tourist's stay within its gates all too short for dwelling fitly upon associations of such magnitude. and hither he returned. Sir Walter Raleigh's fleet set sail thence for the settlement of Virginia. Sir Humphrey Gilbert went thence to Newfoundland. illumined by the burning words." From Plymouth.
and Medina Sidonia's
Were one to attempt a summary of Plymouth's notable days and names. " We are as near heaven by sea as by land.
fit associates for the mariners whose names do so burn and
to England's beauty
taste in real estate." Drake put forth from its harbor to circumnavigate the globe. those pilgrims who had left Holland for a bleaker but more desired haven. From that port set sail.
none better shows us the stuff of which they were made than a true tale of Mayor Dirnford. Yogge. in church "on his opening day. who was blamed for belittling his office by bearing his meat home from market.
These were men
stood no more upon ceremony than old " Frankie Drake." struck the town clerk for not calling him "your Worship. Farcy. was popularly called " Sheepley. who. returned with sturdy good wit. who would have the world know that he was ** gentleman born. being meek by nature and deportment.BY OAK AND THORN
upon the page." and evidently took no offense thereat. in 1455. perhaps even with the concurrence of their toughhided fathers."
. Shipley." and who could give and take such missiles of dry humor as
might well be considered both dangerous and deadly in their effect on friendly
of the stories con-
nected with the early mayors recall the candor once prevailing in the pit of the English theatres. " It's a poor horse that won't carry its own provender " But of all the legends connected with these robust city fathers." and so was dubbed thereafter " Worshipful Farcy " by all the Plymouth gamins.
twin rivers of Plymouth. where one who fears not sea slime and good-natured chaff may meet the fishing population at dawn. saying grimly that the fit had given him an
Of the beauty and strength of Plymouth at the present day. He came out of it with dignity.THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
of apoplexy. and also that eccentric auction
Stonehouse and Devonport. at least. it would be
say too much. Plymouth will disclose many a quaint corner to such as are patient as well as curious witness. Look into the Catwater and Hamoaze. and at dinner ate Michaelmas goose. the Barbican. estuaries of the Plym and Tamar. and there you may seek the dockyards. and you shall find men-of-war and humble merchant vessels.
jurisdiction the sister
three bearing the patent marks of military design and occupation. Go to Devonport.
. Though the days have long passed when seafaring heroes trod the streets. as from a recognized part of the services. enticingly open to such foreigners as are favored by the gods and the admiralty. could really disturb his
happy human nest The approach builded close by the sea." and drew forth men." let him in Plymouth seek out that square where
gated. and children to meet
ness. apparently in a gentleman's park devoted and leaving care beto utilitarian ends
hind. where all tour-
. three hundred years ago. in the shape of baggage. past vestiges of a Roman encampment. jewel dropped in
a cleft of the rock.
bit of earth
heart beats at thought of Kingsley and olden days is Clovelly. rock-paved road. to this oddest corner of creation.
lover of the past could be misled
by a garnished
be one thus " fond and foolish. when a salute told the news that Sir Francis Drake had returned from the seas which " were a prison for so large a spirit. is presently to feed. women.BY OAK AND THORN
distinguished by the falling of every bid. the traveler
must thereupon take to his feet down a steep. enter old Saint
the victorious hero. ignoring their carven fresh-
Andrew's Church. For there were the people at service. and. gives no hint of the beauties on which the eye The coach stops.
with gentle insistence. resplendent in old china.
drous beauty and delight. and adorned by fuchsia shrubs and geraniums.
exclamations. broad stairs laid with cobblestones. whose name here is legion. and kept in perpetual commotion by the influx of hungry excursionists.
gold. Flanking this declivitous
ists fare alike.
quaintness of Ciovelly is not all it wears. descending sharply in low. appears Ciovelly Street. a
immaculate in whitewash. who come by boat and coach to flood the tiny village with admiring
tages. or drags about sledges piled high with trunk and portmanteau. meanwhile. on either side.
. a little old-fashioned house.
runs. Halfway down stands the New Inn. to " scrunch " the unwary traveler against the neighboring wall).THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
be they clad in frieze or Suddenly. at a turn of the way. keys go clattering up and down for it is Neddy who patiently toils under sacks of coal (trying. that of a won. its sign swinging across the street. No carriage has ever profaned this stony Only the tiny hoofs of donstaircase. Lying as it does in an earth-cleft stretching down to
and. secure in humble contentment and sweetness of life. *)me never to return. that harbor where. it boldly marches through the walls of a house (itself spanned by an archway above). casting themselves on the
. hoping more mercy even from those iron walls of rock than from the pitiless howling wastes of spray behind them and that merry beach beside the town covered with shrieking women and old men. The little street wanders.BY OAK AND THORN
the sea. perhaps twice. he tells us. where fishy smells mingle with the smoke which is Clovelly's natural breath. it is fostered and overlooked by towering wooded cliffs. and then after threading strange nooks and corners.
. as Kingsley says. would come upon him again and again of " the old bay darkened with the gray coldness of the waterspouts stalking across the waves before the northern gales and the tiny herring boats fleeing from their nets right for the breakers. in its progress to the water once. ends at the little harbor. in the season of herring fishing so many boats set forth with song and prayer. One scene. seems nowise inferior in merit to such natural pomp and magnificence.
"Did you know Mr.?" I
Under the mysterious
cliff. on ago. learning it through the heart rather than the mind for here did he catch the spirit of those men whomade it glow and burn. rather than Hakluyt's Chronicles. you know what was the inspiration of my life His very spirit perbefore I met you. was born his fiery sympathy with that heroic race who peopled the deep three hundred years " Now." meates the place his name is there a household word. Kingsley. till in one case alone the dawn saw upwards of sixty widows and orphans weeping over those who had gone out the night before in the fullness
and courage. her sunshine. From Devon air.
. " now that you have seen the dear old paradise. and rocks." Kingsley's father was rector of Clovelly during six of those years when the sensitive lad must have been very delicately responsive to new impressions. waves.THE PILGRIM
pebbles in fruitless agonies of prayer.
spell of sea and he conned the pages of England's naval history. her first visit to Clovelly.
. as corpse after corpse swept up at the feet of wife and child." said he to his wife.
and how was that. beautiful with health. that
Clovelly churchyard. the pavement. on settling into a welcoming nest. and bearing the dignity of a sturdy character. " I cannot believe my eyes. and again in lodgings in a fuchsiadecked house on Clovelly Street. "
she said with gravity."
BY OAK AND THORN
asked a woman.?
he sailed to Lundy.
familiar as concerning a beneficent houseall saw him very often." was his homesatisfied cry.
" As soon as he he was in and out of
dently." hold deity. and asking how was this one. we loved lads got home from sea !" Mr. the wife of a "master mariner. delighting his keen eyes and reverent soul with God's wonders dredged up from the deep.
his visits. and had the Ah. sometimes as a guest at Clovelly Court. "The same place. or wherever a fisherman's lot might lead him. Kingsley His happiest vacations were spent here. Thence
. the dear old smells. the dear old hand-
. as welcome as a bit of sunon a wet day.
at sea. is that They are Clovelly has no young men. strange and pregnant. more or less than a year-long struggle
with the treacherous sea. where his "father exercised the mystery of a barber surgeon and a preacher of the people since
. With such simplicity and directness does the body here express the soul that you may read daily. So constantly are they brought face to face with danger that minor griefs are no longer present to remembrance.
the Armada. was Salvation Yeo. in living lineaments."
One noticeable cir-
cumstance." in quest of the "golden South
Americas " such. and the desire of eternal life
all in all. in endurance and rigid purpose.
and dignitall and shapely. in the year 1 526. of "Westward Ho " who was born in Clovelly Street. serving their apprenticeship.
. and went.
their dead-and-gone ancestors.THE PILGRIM
fied type. "grim
or jocund. and the children are marvels of
village houses are of a noble
dark-eyed beauty. the story of a fine and Life to these men is little striving race. the men bear in face and carriage unmistakable marks of thought and feeling.
a veritable fairy progress. whence he may overlook the blue sea. nestling in her flowery gorge. an airy space. a way of marvelous beauty skirting the top of the cliff. or to furnish new cause for the old
ache. when their branch of the family died out. This road. They held it till the eighteenth century. and bordered with a lush undergrowth of ferns. belongs
to Clovelly Court. From time to time in his course.
may be approached through
Drive. And where now shall we seek a trace of the gallant Will who was one of that noble Brotherhood
. far below his eyrie.
BY OAK AND THORN
come home for the innocent kisses of a dozen joyous women waiting on the quay. guarded by towering trees. and in the distance the shadowy coast of Wales and finally shall he receive the crowning vision of Clovelly herself. seek out Lundy's outline. the traveler will come upon a natural window in the leafy walls. severely simple. one of whom figures so prominently among Kingsley's giants of action. throbbing for the wanderer
in the sixteenth
century lived the Carys. and drowsily indifferent to sea or wind..
though you ** always call it White Cliff when you see it from the seaboard. though. and the devil will take first. is so named when one is on land. Another point of pilis
grimage on the estate
Gallantry Bower. in a lonely tower. and.
into lodgings at Clovelly
. worthy favorite of the Virgin Queen ? Only Kingsley can rehearse his mimic history. to find a Gary's name in enduring brass. Bideford Bay." Gallantry Bower. the
climb the height to the
church. if the trace of one of his forbears be cheering to the eye. stretching ever
outward like a weird finger. which of all places on earth " God made last. barren and dreadful Morte.
a steep cliff rising four hundred feet out of the sea."
has its appropriate legend for here. She had a fine vantage point for surveying the world around. Morte Point. founded by Frank Leigh. lived the fair lady of a Norman lord. this victim of soft durance Peace to her dust. where so many ships have gone down.!
THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
of the Rose. peace equal in measure to the skyful of beauty whereon she daily
. and commanding Hartland Point.
droll physiognomy. usually at twilight. Clovelly sailor. in the tone of those who have drawn their own conclusions from the inexplicable drama called Life." And human nature looking up even a bit. sits a row of grizzled mariners discussing the state of the world.BY OAK AND THORN
invite a possibility of
terknit with the life of its kindly people. " human nature 's looking up
a bit. stands a bench serving as council ground for the village fathers. think you ? Nay. and one face. to sweeten many a tough morsel of experience. One bit of quaint philosophy. when the boats have come in and nets are drying. has lingered in my ears. that's the only comfort." said one of these weatherworn sea-dogs. more familiar with the deep than with human countenance. and
unpolluted by the grime of great cities } for out of the lips of men It may be so unspotted from the world come often truths more crystalline than those of sci. " Well. of the universe itself. In the village is sold a photograph of Clovelly mariners. almost overhanging the quay. a humorous. overheard during such a twilight symposium.
In an angle of the stairlike street.
ence or statistics.
Midway down the
man. that is poor old Captain dealer. we were there in our lodgings at the head of the street.
full of days." Yes. in a very self-respecting
. Folly. and up the street to the little church was carried the old man whose journey was
finished. with a tear in her voice. He is crippled.
slept. strong voices sustaining the burden.
reverently upon his coffin. not during the one hour
at their avocations. whose race is not soon to be run.
THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
once strikes the attention. ready
to retail village gossip. and waits
— another old
domestic receipt of custom.
children recognize the night as the inevitable foil of day.
to dispose. judging from his apparent ability to keep feebleness and sorrow at bay. You must have been here. " He died the other day. when Captain Folly was borne past by his brother mariners in their Sunday best wearing also the becoming gravity of
think gently and seriously of
death. "And is this ? " I asked the sympathetic *' Oh." said she.
and not the service.
Sunday. But in order to find himself actually
near the heart of the part of the attend chapel on Such a church. What lover of human expression would not study reverently the faces in that lowly Every eye fixed upon the chapel a man who had somewhat preacher. rough hall in an obscure corner jutting from the street. once sought out and followed. furnishes savor and spice in a godly community. is filled with worshipers. this
daily implication of
bespoke sheep worthy the guidance of not such as feed a faithful shepherd
. of the forthcoming shilling or six-
common . the
you please. and whose heart of religious love raises their hymn-singing to a resounding if strident chorus.
. to say.
this simple folk. "A penny. is never to be forgotten." yet he is. a sermon full of hard and lov-
more cynical than
of his brother mariners.BY OAK AND THORN
ner. who at entrance and departure make a mighty clattering on the uncarpeted floor. bare and uninteresting as the old country schoolhouse.
to storm and night. the
wind a destroying and lightnings and thunder the messengers of an avenging heaven.THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
accustomed to stony ways and mountain fastnesses. asleep until the judg-
ment day "
Don Guzman he
Shutter Rock. dark sea. and her men "all lying round her. whose every look and gesture was of the sea. emphasized the prayers. terrible dramatic centre
of the tragedy so marvelously described
What traveler so painstaking as to seek out Lundy will not remember at the south that cliff overhanging the shoreless cove and deep. with sonorous " amens.
Leigh's sixteen days' chase
of the Spaniard. Don Guzman's ship was cast upon the rocks. from point to point. but
and drank his wine. Then he and I took a locket from his bosom
said the recurrent
was his thanksgiving. Eleven miles from Clovelly lies Lundy. but
of the waters of
life. where blind
the Spanish galleon. One old man." His soul drank
in grassy vales. from whose southeast edge rises the
forced season of retirement which. and called me right up through the oar-weed and the sea We have had a fair quarrel. Senor. and I stooped to take it.' answered. wife and your brother have forgiven me. and I woke.' spoke to me. Gary.
Indeed. and I am punished.' Then he held out his hand to me.
drink to her. to the exceeding dismay of an entheir waiting congregations. not we. and I have sinned.' Then he said.:
BY OAK AND THORN
speak. so am I. Senors all.' And I said. in the days before steam had rendered traveling "as easy as lying." Lundy. and true Then he
mark that the difficulty of getting there was exceeded only by the difficulty of
Will. and My it is time to be friends once more.
hoped." was so inaccessible as to provoke the relady
* . 'And.
Here 's the
. the reverend gentlemen employed
said that the
clergymen of five or six coast parishes once made an excursion thither. and were detained on the island over two Sundays. Don Guzman God has judged our quarrel. '
he said. Senor. *We are friends. And I so your honor takes no stain.
and surging currents rage about it with a strength and fury to be surpassed only at Land's End. and the sedum blesses the earth with
bloom. It can boast remains of a primeval population in flint
and pottery. Its granite and slate defenses present an impregnable front to the Atlantic.
good of their souls. But once within its rocky gates. ever painted in gloomy and glaring hues. The island one of that brood of earth pigmies born to mightiness of garb and history. Here heather and furze glow in rose and gold. for
that coloring which
the benison of sea air. lived
life. the royal foxglove stands.
in the reign of
there a turbulent and piratical
his bit of land
undaunted by king or peer. and they fought a valiant fight against law and order until 1242. more smiling beauties greet
the eye. Of good old stuff were the Morescos. though was declared forfeit to the crown.
Lundy has had a checkered history.
recorded lord. when William of that name was seized and
. but few
care to trace
history further than the
Jordan de Moresco.
and kinsman of Sir Walter Raleigh. " What should I do with him ? " queried James. Vice-Admiral of Devonshire.
blot of having sheltered a dastardly refu-
Lewis Stukely. Lundy became a favorite
Thereafter. mon. By this Judas-like deed. and being vigorously insulted by old Lord Howard of Effingham. but irretrievably lost that of his peers . all the " But
Stukely was to learn that treachery to a friend and defection from a royal master
. he ran
gee. " Hang him ? On my sawl. and even Turkish privateers. a lighthouse crowns the plateau above the scene is one of quietude.
. Stukely earned the royal favor.
and was captured in turn by French. On the upper plain lie also the ruins of an ancient fortress known as Moresco's Castle. Seek its pages to-day. Spanish. forever tainted by the
pirates.BY OAK AND THORN
in London town. Sir
whining to James and made complaint.
trees in the island
were too few
of thee. who through that craven means came to the headsman's block. and you will read the tamer sequel to so bold a story a few houses cluster at the landing-cove. broken only by the turmoil of nature.
. and the
people would give him " neither Again was he swept nor water. with shire her on her Dowry in those Parts. he was chosen Knight of that Shire in the Parliment which began A.THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
are two different offenses
but flight before the winds of Into Devonshire hot-foot he hurried. prominent member of the old Coffin
within a year. Lady Mannors of Derby" and residing. in the reign of Henry VIII. now the seat of the Pine-Coffins. and there was he resolutely boycotted. seeking refuge in the old Moresco Castle.
when. Henry VIII^
. "cursing God and man." and his
sents a pretty bit of incident scarcely to be told more vividly than in Prince's
own diction. quaint and clear. his own denied him. This Sir William Coffin married. 21 K." Not far from Clovelly lies Portledge.. and in Amyas Leigh's time the residence of that Will Coffin who made one among The most the lovers of Rose Salterne."
on by fate and furies to Lundy. and. there was nothing
wrath. died there. he was caught debasing the coin of the realm. as is likely.
the only quick goods he left. and specifying the place of payment. not unworthy the relating.
Office to the
first. so that no poor man was thereafter likely to be denied his last rites and resting-place.
." " Confirms the Observation. he saw a multitude of People standing Idle he enquired into the cause thereof Who reply'd.. and required him to do his
. They had brought a Corse thither to be buried but the Priest refused to do his office unless they first delivered him the Poor Man's Cow. there happened a remarkable Accident. and Earth to be thrown in upon him and he still persisting in his Refusal. ** All which.
it. especially for the good Law it occasioned Passing by a Church-yard." as Prince begs us to "make a note of. until the obstinate Priest was either altogether or This little drama well-nigh suffocated. Sir William sent for the Priest. there was still more earth thrown in.
unless he had his Mortuary
Whereupon he caused the Priest to be put into the Poor Man's Grave. for a Mortuary.
BY OAK AND THORN
1529: In his way to which." led to an act of Parliament absolutely fixing the amount of mortuaries.
and the everlasting thunder of
the long Atlantic swell." It were a pert and presumptuous pen which would attempt a description of
Bideford after Kingsley has ticketed it with missal script. rich salt-marshes. and laid it away for all time. cush-
with deep oak woods. and
. and rolling sand-hills.
. in the year 1575.
Leigh." But the traveler who arrives there with the beginning of " Westward Ho " warm in the memory will recall that. where Torridge joins her sister Taw.THE PILGRIM
That Evil Manners are often the Parent of Good Laws. till they sink into the wide expanse of hazy flats.
Above the town the
close in. as " the little which slopes upwards white town from its broad tide-river paved with yellow sands. and both together
flow quietly toward the broad surges of the bar. wandering
open more and more in softly-rounded knolls and fertile squares of red and green. and many-arched old bridge where salmon wait for autumn floods. in library records. toward the pleasant upland on the west. through which juts here and there a crag of fernfringed slate below they lower.
alternating in yellow flats and dimpling water. But though
defy the lapse of time. on a prosaic and humble signboard. has made
place for a
one. So old is this historic bridge that no man knoweth the date
of its building. the
ancient taverns are gone. dating
. Even the old church. of whose family Devonshire traditions contain curious mention. That the latter was a true Devonshire
" the bricks are alive to this
. These were Mr. and the
marvelous adventures attendant on their quest. met there two men telling strange tales of the gold and gems of the New World. and the
a busy course of trade. John Oxenham.BY OAK AND THORN
school along the
that lined the
quay. where Amyas and his brother mariners gave thanks after their wonderful voyage with Drake. and Salvation Yeo.
day to testify " for in Bideford town I saw it.
isting seal of Bideford borough. not many months ago. by the taverns
Only the muddy
Torridge flows daily in and out. and Bideford bridge stands proud and firm in the very outlines it wore when the lad Amyas begged of Salvation Yeo his carven horn.
Finally.. however. therefore must it have been alive and in good and honorable standing at that day.
. bears its portrait.
parish priest was told in a
dream that a
stone had been moved to a desirable spot in the stream. gave abundantly.
communication 'twixt Heaven and Bideford. is supernatural. and others. They. more prosperous That the or more zealous. Sir Richard Gomard. revealed his vision to the bishop. and the poor cheerfully offered the work of their hands. some for a week. like that of all truly self-respecting structures in Great Britain. or Gurney.
THE PILGRIM IN DEVON
from the fourteenth century. succeeding bishops had the bridge's welfare in mind is indicated by the fact that
to his means. It is recorded that the river was long ago crossed by a ford so dangerous that no stones could be laid there with any hope
of permanence. obedient offices souls. for a month. Its origin. who was pleased to "send forth indulgences and licenses" in order to enlist the good of his flock. each according
Many contributed money the rich gave lands and the labor of their workmen. and there should the
and who departed this life in a swiftly-traced but ever-during track of glory. becoming. off Flores. and last. from three in the afternoon till daybreak next morning. But when.BY OAK AND THORN
announcement was made not only from
the cathedral church of Exeter. an alms-giving bridge. a sentient bridge. whose prowess is sung by every chanter of Devon's fame. more than a thousand of the enemy were 66
. first and last." It was to the Grenviles that Bideford owed its early prosperity. in that fury of battle. but not least. a dinner-giving bridge. an educational bridge. but the bright star of that heroic family remains Sir Richard. a soul-saving bridge. with a hundred and twenty men.
the dignity of a
landed proprietor. For in the Revenge."
that the bridge beits
so rich as to hold
head high. he fought the Spanish fleet of fifty sail and ten thousand men. " an inspired bridge. The first Grenvile of Bideford was a cousin of the Conqueror . that those who would promote and encourage this work " should
ever. but throughout the diocese of Devonshire and Cornwall.
saying in Spanish. " Here die I.. for honor and religion. the pride of North Devon. awful in whose presence none to all bad men dare say or do a mean or a ribald thing
brave men left.
while the Revenge lost but forty. his boat was riddled through and through." Such was Richard Grenvile. Richard Grenvile. he died of his wounds. lovely to all good men. as bats and owls before the sun. while cowards slipped away. and was forced to surrender only through want of ammunition." Kingsley's authority has been questioned for making Bideford one of England's chief ports in the sixteenth cen-
. that his captors might understand and know themselves defied to the last. with a joyful and quiet mind. and he himself was wounded. feeling themselves nerved to do their duty better. Three days after." Well is he remembered as " the great Sir Richard. who has fought for his country and his queen. for that I have ended my life as a good soldier ought to do.
he would fain have blown up the vessel. who walks through " Westward Ho " and the pages of less poetic history " a wise and gallant gentleman.
BY OAK AND THORN
though its halcyon days. and ironically
the spot " Golden Bay. French and Spanish privateers found Bideford ships such rich booty that they
tury. and. even though a companion ship was separated from him by wind and weather. " Chief Pilot of England. in Elizabeth's time. On he sailed into the north. two of whom were seafaring men. beginning under Elizabeth. Again." But such flourishing of commerce is a thing of the past. 68
. entered the White Sea.
the very offing of the
of a luckless expedition to the Arctic
seas in the sixteenth century. he daringly
continued his voyage. where Kingsley fixed the home of Amyas Leigh. for now the shipping trade of the Torridge is conducted mainly at the neigh-
boring town of Appledore. the region of perpetual mystery. in an insignificant vessel with a tiny crew. until its commerce with America and NcAArtfoundland became exceeding great. naming the North Cape by the way. most undaunted of pioneers. rapidly brightened. has been for centuries the seat of a family of the name of Leigh. and one. Burrough in Northam.
sailed triumphantly to a point within the Kara Sea. its near neighbor is as old as what ? Let geology tell us." Truly Amy as the giant came
of a goodly race. and on the day of my pilgrimage lying at rest beside a calm sea and under
a smiling sky."
This neighbor is the Pebble Ridge. the smallest larger than the fist. a seaside
resort of some pretension. " beyond which. The Ridge is simply a wide beach heaped with pebbles. " as old as
Adam. " no navigator went until our own day. Near the mouth of the Torridge
delightfully clean little town. and that her boy. This is Westward Ho. in the ignorant enthusiasm
of the unscientific pilgrim. Leigh. even amazingly so among such surroundings. on his way to Ireland.
But it is easily to be guessed that when the demons of ai^ and
." says Prince. whose moaning told poor Mrs. born of the great book to which the region is yearly indebted for crowding visitors. would not sleep that night.
and one whose bound him to heroic deeds. three miles away in Bideford town. Though the town is
modern. that the sea and winds were rapidly rising. I had almost said.
who there amuses himself religiously.
grass. wet with ocean spume. where "Irish ffoxe came out of rocks. despoiled by giant Amyas yet here he will find but slender trickling of the stream of clear water.-'
own " empty may be historic
When and where shall the pilgrim content himself Shall he follow the uttermost traces of those he would fain have known.
quite as the
captains played at
on the Hoe.
witch. the "white
. broad. every-day contentment or he may
. even when the present fails to copy fair the past ? If he elect to do so. until they
rattle like the fetters of giants captive. so peaceful is the scene.''
. knowing. and slight reminder of such shy quarry.BY OAK AND THORN
water strive together. are cast mightily upon one another.
and delightful to the British golfer." to find
it a Devonshire combe. these missiles of the deep."
Lucy Passmore. then may he seek Freshwater at Clovelly. offered reverence." to lose his brush of self-sufficiency.
He may religiously visit
. and put the finger of fancy on the very spot where Salvation Yeo slew the king of the Gubbings. and finds not one stone left upon another for always and everywhere are the changeful skies.
Time and enthusiasm must
. Devonshire herself has not waxed old nor faded. and in holding her warm hand and gazing into her true eyes he may
comfort himself with the certainty that even so was she in those yesterdays made for the building of great epics. even where he looks for castle or hovel. warm cliffs.
everywhere his hope
be set in
the gold of trefoil or the rose of heather.THE PILGRIM
traverse Dartmoor. but he can scarcely be disappointed in any Devonian quest. and smiling or tempestuous
passing through the shop in search of adventure without. consciously innocent and yet alarmed. at Ilfracombe.
back to him
for more. " quaked the " John Ridd. " He
. for. miss shopman. to secure a bedroom over a dairyman's shop. " Now." To see
graphic trace of friend and hero.-'
in full of eggs. miss
. that I chanced. who is Ridd."
"But who is John Ridd? Is he a ? Does he dearly love coUops of
Did he marry
.-*" quoth I. pointing a dramatic finger at the legend.
now sojourning in
where milk was cream and the butter overlaid with gold. and again purringly
content in the humblest of lodgings. I espied near the doorway a large wooden box marked distinctly " Ridd. The finger of fate was in this . viewing the box as it might be a forerunner of November Fifth.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
It was during
in Great Britain.
approached either by
kiss). and thus it was that we made our path in a measure straight.
Lynfamed among the jewels of Devon.
. from its beginning at
should be the the enthusiast
who works by
Plover's Barrows (even.
. The town is builded upon a wood-covered height. wherein
ton. locating the Dulverton
greatly inflamed the
of an extended pilgrimage.THE HAUNT OF
" Bless you. unlimited even by the far distance and four hundred feet below. flanked behind by rolling tors.
and compass would have traced the honest yeoman's career. miss " interrupted my shopman. " all amort " " he 's a dairyman but he 's nowise remarkable. with painstaking
exactitude." This was the first faint footprint of Lorna's John on Devonshire sand and
thence to his meeting with Lorna. by sounding paragraphs but it remains the despair of word-imagery. and so on to London Town but something must at times be sacrificed to the common -sense of travel. Lynton has been a thousand times lauded in breathless interjections.
where he dodged a
it towers inaccessible.BY OAK AND THORN
or a steep.(
. and a certain nodding fairy bell intensifies the upper blue. through almost impossible glories of color and light. faithfully rendered by its name. it face of the cliff. footpath cut in the living rock and. gorse glows resplendent. stretches the cliff. erected solely for the delight of artistic eyes. At a distance of something more than a mile from Lynton is the Valley of Rocks. only by the cliff walk. far-famed Clovelly than any sister town. Below. Above. At the right. a sheer descent to the sea. leads on and on. looking Lynmouth way. lies the harbor of Lynmouth. on the very An enchanted way. "one entire and
. guarded in friendly fashion by a quaint Rhenish tower. cherisher of the noisy Lyn stream running thereby More like and clamoring for the sea. a huge cliff or foreland sweeps into the sea. Lynmouth has chosen foothold in a cleft of mighty crags. Majestically they tower above her. to be approached. if the traveler a is truly wise. winding track. carpeted everywhere with a wondrous Heather smiles in richness of growth. also. while she broods in peace at the water gate. roseate purple.
and enters the
ing only color.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
perfect chrysolite " in gemlike coloring. Rich browns shade into purple and rose-
red and. flanked by hills and to-day traversed by a road.
and threw them back
. marked forever by a red letter in the missal of the year.
way along the curving
mering splendor. the bare rock throbs and palpitates in almost breathing beauty. The great cliff shone in glory and the watcher.
. some extent. the traveler suddenly turns a corner.
rock. and imagine himself some happy dweller in the air. poised upon his meagre eyrie.
. the sky was as a shell. it is green with bracken and sterile under Everywhere obtrudes the unstone. lustrous.
stupendous descriptions hung upon its fame. nourished by light and breathFollowing this heavenly cliff. On one late afternoon. he is disappointed but gradually the true grandeur of the rocky waste
A upon its own significance.
first. might almost forget the ground above and beneath. in bits
for a giant's
pink-tinted. at those gala moments when the sunset glory is supreme.
unless he had lived in a gallipot. and not the treble but among the suppliants for her uncanny aid there must have been those who here quivered and quaked in awe of the sorcerer Nature. Mabel Durham. had her abode. tremendous. To extend one's walk along the valley and through the hospitable gate of Lee Abbey is to turn a page of romantic hisThis estate was some time the tory.. according to some. These are attract and hold the eye. like chaotic dwellings. or.
. signifying cheese-knife or scoop). grotesque. Castle Rock and the Devil's Cheese-ring (the latter word.
Even the valiant John found himself depressed by the gloom of her surroundthough he had previously considered the place " nothing to frighten anybody.
value of scene-setting and accessories. if not the human witch. Wise Mother Melldrum She knew the
missile. as the name was corrupted. in
BY OAK AND THORN
massive and uncouth formaTwo such rocky citadels." His nerves were as the bass string.
ings. or possibly her rendezvous and thither came John Ridd to seek her. Tradition still declares that in this eerie spot the witch.
. Mother Melldrum.
justice against the recreant
Auberley stood high in court favor. and sought the woman. and next morning had not returned. and the royal coward declared his inability to judge between them.
Jennifred. whose line ended in
residence of the
revolt against the English crown. Search waxed hot
. and struck
cast herself in heroic de-
Her father sought King James for
. The Sedgemoor followed and De
. One night she wandered away from the house. Flemish refugees. Then came Monmouth's Rebellion and De Whichehalse. like others of the defeated. burning for revenge. whereupon
. repudiated the royal party. met him him dead.
Whichehalse.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
De Whichehalse family.
to the story. she
was beloved and deserted by Lord Auberley and. attempted flight to Holland. at the foot of the cliff
where she had
spot in the grounds furnishes the initial
note to this tragic history.
could not survive the outrage of her maiden dream. happily dead.
slayer in the ranks of
face to face. and still known as
Jennifred's Leap. a cliff overhanging the shore. like Ophelia.
Dartmoor is broken by abrupt and gigantic rocky remains Ex:
. barren. at number vaive.
. "the green of bracken. Rather will he choose to smile over the memory of that Marwood de Whiche-
betray.BY OAK AND THORN
the winds swept down upon him and the sea rose. the red of whortleberry. they halted at Dulverton and there it was that the immortal " farm-hand " demanded " Hot mootton pasty for twoo trarv'lers. and yet strangely individual and
different. But the lover of that
forever satisfying. It is like Dartmoor as one sister resembles another. though
will scarcely waste thought upon this righteous maid-avenger. brown. by ponies and red deer.
Annie at the payment for his whistle was so sturdily clouted by the giant John. from Tiverton to Oare. crack-
coarse grass diversified by patches of heather.
side lies the moor. When John Fry and his valiant little charge made their way across Exmoor. in vaive minutes " The coach road from Lynton thither is charhalse
door. as of old. quenching his stormy life and passions forever." and tenanted.
sea. for then such mountain waters throw aside the decorum of habit. a cool and unsympathetic authority.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
moor sweeps away
in rolling billows. indeed low." runs a proverb and the couplet defining
goyals or gullies. destructive
dauntless. but alas for the partisan who would fain shudder over the bones of Carver Doone bleaching below the ooze Not one. Here and there are bogs. Then they drop
that the great
and truly suddenly hundreds of feet. to join the torrent bein winter a torrent.
early rains leap forth.
ridges themselves trickle swifter
rills. is dangerous. but
centre of the great tract. foam-fringed and vocal. where sweeps some rushing streamlet." Over the sides of the
of varying size. In the deep glens at the foot of these enormous earth-ridges hasten clear streams
all swarming with moor is the " mother of manie rivers. cleft perhaps by a romantic fissure. lie its monotony and dreariness of waste moorland. peopled every-
where by thousands of sheep.
when they approach the sea downs become majestic satisfying. " It always rains on Exmoor. and swollen by the
unless. Homer will have a flooded stream. waking the valley The air there is to a madness of mirth. announces with the eccentric rhyming of a weather distich.BY OAK AND THORN
Dunkery's barometric qualification. indeed. Crossing the stream is by a foot-bridge made of one timber and a narrow hand-rail. joking. utterly irresponsible water creature goes
and shallow. and perhaps like us find yourself. when they lower on Dunkery. where
that gurgling." You can scarcely make your way for love of the thickening leaves on either hand. Everywhere is the beauty woven out of ferns and brawling waters.
of spiritual vainglory. slapping his sides. quite out of breath and be80
. Then you begin climbing. shouting. " When Dunkery's top cannot be seen. the gods go with you every step. To climb this beacon hill without a guide is to suffer some diminution
Clouds are the hourly attendants of an Exmoor sky but. The pleasfootway from antest Porlock leads through the valley of the Horner.
dark with " green things growing. singing. then the rain may be said to have given official warning of its approach.
directed us profusely.
company than the king of France. save that it was full of hot sun and winy airs that somehow the sound of an axe led us into a wood. The sky smiled brilliantly without a cloud. far away in a dream. Surely the beacon No path pointed thither. apparently
on the way to
nowhere." Then. my eyes looked always across a black bar where the bright horizon line had struck them. a flaw. we marched down again. At length one waving outline seemed to be broken by a knot. The hills were alike. delusive in their sameness. we struck into a way across the moor. The road rose and sank with the billowing hills.
. All his conflicting testimony ended to the tune of " and that will be Dunkery. I have little remembrance of that day.. little hamlet glanced out now and then. surprised at visitors in his sleeping world.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
wildered. and we struck into wild land where the
. and scanning it for the beacon. obedient. where the chopper. in an upland open. and you '11 know it by the b'acon. mounted another height and knew only that Exmoor was
about us and that we were plainly lost.
looking back. From Lynton to Simonsbath (still on the way to Dulverton) the road affords
scenery. But we had eaten the air and thriven mightily. :
BY OAK AND THORN
heather was knee-deep.
. There were seven hours of it in all before home and rest seven hours without food.
with her distinguishing cairn. husky to the
ear. saw only the sky. where he is yet hunted with the madness of enthusiasm described by Kingsley and Whyte-Melville and the knowing tourist will scan the far sinuous horizon for one glimpse of a delicate antlered head.
— on Dunkery. waste.! . the few nibbling sheep. the warm scrubby growth closed over her and the other. This is the county of the red deer.
one of us lay down to rest. the rolling slopes.
and desolate. finding herself alone on this great ball. the earth. her vantage over purpling wastes and love-looks at the ample sky. and we went back again through the heather. Vain desire
bare. The soul must be hide-bound indeed. if in such space she will not
there. and drank of wonder.
THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
veloping his tactics for the next meet. it with King Sigmund. and there cool him in the stream before picking his dainty way over moss and
pebble. though it happens to be of a rather fragmentary and commonplace nature. If that avail
Then perchance he
not. when we draw up in front of the William Rufus. says
one tale. the dragon-slayer. that this was the scene of one mar83
taken. was accustomed to Another folk tradition connects bathe.
— every step a move
of outwitting the hounds.
Simonsbath is dignified by the usual quota of legend. dear the only four-footed beasties you find on Exmoor are ponies cropping the homely herbage the deer are meat
for our masters. and send him forth with a cruel push of resistless horns. But sufficient be it for us to remember. where Simon. to draw the sportsman's eye. a tavern in good and respectable standing to-day as it was two centuries ago. his
But lay it not to heart. will slink into the lair of a young stag. he will seek some still watercourse. an Exmoor outlaw of some unknown period.
pilgrim. from a deep pool in the Barle.
BY OAK AND THORN
velous escape ascribed to
Faggus. receive the popular vote. LI.
the imaginative. however had but to leap on his halfhuman strawberry mare and ride away. quotes. Page. as he wet patch upon the side of Dunkery may.
Here was he one night revehng when the authorities suddenly pounced upon
to be outwitted. entered by a street so narrow that the houses seem inhospitably to elbow the passing coach. and at Dulverton itself. for the benefit of
more vital matters. . and fix upon any bog even approximately answering the requirements of fancy. the tradition that the bog known as Claren Rocks. with equal likelihood. in comparison with its previous mood. the case dismissed
circumstanevidence can do no harm. The verdict has been
given. was the instrument of
justly adds. J. not far from Simonsbath. the road becomes somewhat tame.. within the proper radius. tJiere is scanty interest for anti84
. a certain
Carver Doone's tragic ending but. doctors disagree and the hoarder of such uncertain detail might as well look about him. As in
. lover of the moors of Exe and Dart. W.
who was amazingly clever in those days at outwitting the fiend.
. billingsgating the devil as he went. near which Mother Melldrum set up her summer residence. was built by the devil for his own exclusive use." and avenged himself for the indignity offered his garb by retorting that he was "no blacker than the devil. inasmuch as the parson was called a "black crow. it is evident that this good gentle-
. The dialogue on this memorable occasion must have been of the tu quoque order. rude bridge made of stone slabs. it seems. placed upon piers and guiltless of cement." Pussy was torn piecemeal and then the parson himself crossed in safety. whereupon the parson. this." Shrewd in tactics." You may climb the hill behind the church and overlook the valley of the Barle. He threatened destruction to the first living creature crossing it.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
quary and for "tripper.
ton pasty. broke the spell by sending over "a harmless necessary cat. or you may drive through the wooded luxury of Earl Carnarvon's park but it must be confessed that the chief glory of the place lies now in the memory of John Fry's " hot moot." Not far away are the Tor Steps.
applies only to those who. and 86
traveler.) Up and out into the clear air of heaven leads the Countisbury Road. will point vaguely into the purple distance. and make a canny bargain for a drive to the valley itself. like the Queen of Spain. for this beguiling statement merely indicates that the driver.BY OAK AND THORN
yet a dullard at repartee. (This. to return by way of Watersmeet. at a certain stage of the trip. else
would he have chosen some more biting " rejoinder than " You 're another Let no one contemplating the coaching trip to Dulverton be deceived by
the announcement that the Doone Valley is among the attractions of the route. hardly needs to be he should take a carriage at Lynmouth." The greedy
however. skirting the very brow of sheer cliffs on one side.
. however. and remark that the Doone Valley is " there. thanking his luck for the chance. preferably by the Countisbury Road. have no legs. walker will make it a day's excursion. where the Combe Park and Farley Waters join the East Lyn with many sparkles of delight at the meeting and much pomp of fernembroidered garment.
like a temple of Lilliput Land and there I wish him not too exhaustive a knowledge of what he is to find.
sweet. expected merely to drink from the cup of sweet memories. Jan Ridd. " and Zummerzett thou shalt be.") And before reaching the goal of his desire. . ("Zummerzett thou bee'st.
Exmoor from the inland The blue sea and the shadWales are the wayfarer's Every breath is exhil-
treasure-trove." said the popular voice on that side the line. claimant also for the parentage of the redoubtable John.
arating. it shall befall the traveler to seek out Oare church. Presently the road inclines downward and toward the right and Devonshire is left behind for the goodly county of
. " Here stood John with his Lorna when Carver's shot came crashing in. the nave. a tiny building with nave and chancel all complete. instinct with beauty. For I.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
smiled on by
distance. charged with death to one and madness for her lover " but pure surprise chased such sentimental musStepping within ing from the field. in entering.
Somerset. the previously uninstructed is amazed at certain tablets on the north
at whatever season you go. as by
an irrevocable vow." for everywhere is budding or expanded growth. to the upholding of Doone legends.
testify it.BY OAK AND THORN
. and one of them is even adorned by the name of Farmer Nicholas
himself. After Blackmore's paean. you may take an Exmoor pony and ride along a sweetly sylvan path into the true valley. all that one can
so saith the chronicler. though of
another generation than John's old neighbor.
since the days of Alfred
during brass doth so plainly resurrect them before the eye that one is tempted to subscribe then and there to a sober belief in all Blackmore's broidery of fact. a collection of two or three houses devoted. under dappling of shadow and flickering of light. the road is less diverand at Malmsmead. it shall seem " the boyhood of the year ."
Beyond Oare. so that green boughs be welcoming. The Snowes. "
bricks are alive at this
more has vouchsafed a long-lasting tenure of life. And here.
for these perpetuate the
family. are worthy yeo-
men who have
held land in this region
. the more lukewarm in proportion to its For here. he cannot forbear exclamation.
valley itself. with the summer sky above us and the whispering But the magic picture leaves at hand. the
forget not the epilogue
more points than
reality of that word-picture exists. a rocky incline covered by a thin streamlet.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
say of the Doone Valley rings of bathos.
. amicably flowing to meet the
Bagworthy Water but it is by no means a way perilous. Here are steep inclines. it is as Leah to
. Learn. and its ascent need not
. however. is the watertruth. save between the covers of Blackmore's book wonderful. indeed. hundreds of feet high. of our search we shall by no means find.
the desolate foundations of a few tiny
hemmed in by moorland hills compared with a score of Exmoor's chasms and retreats. slide.
when one has turned
back on this disappointing spot and taken his homeward road.
are in the
and very fair it is. though not where tradition has placed it. is
huts. over the
are inaccessible gullies. you may see in copy-letters done a great
There are few places in whose records take more delight than in those of Tiverton and her Blundell School.
who truly seeks even though the prize be long
deferred. it is in the license of any boy.BY OAK AND THORN down which even the anguished red deer dare not hurl himself in his extremity
P. upon the very instant when the waxing element lips though it be but a single
pebble of the founder's letters. and
fern -clad hollow. B. either fluxing along the wall from below the road-bridge or pouring sharply across the meadows from and I a cut called Owen's ditch. Who
that has the heart of youth does not recall. to rush into the great 90
custom and the law that. when the invading waters. just without the archway.' myself have seen it come both ways. so ever small and undoctrined.
with a responsive
tale of the Blundell boys' heaven-sent holiday ? For " in the very front of the
where the paved most handsomely.
THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
school-rooms. and the small boys stick up to the great ones. the boys leap up or break away from their standing.
Errands for the Carriers that came to that Town. B. having no class to look to. with words of scanty compliment. where a score of masters sit heavily. With a spirited bang they close their books.
. recommending the chance of the time and the comfort away from cold water. "at first a very Poor Lad of Tiverton who. and are prone to kick the day-boys out. to see the gain of the waters. and (boys being no more left to watch) in a manner they put their mouths up. the one to the other.
Peter Blundell. They toss their caps to the black-beamed roof.
P. and scream at the top of his
" Then. and haply the very books after them and the great boys vex no more the small ones.
. hard they go. went
and foreign cordials. Then the masters look at one another. for a little Support.
. and was Tractable in looking after their Horses and doing little Ser91
. One with another. for pipes
. with a
. and make invitation. the founder of the was. according to good John Prince.
and bestow such large Legacies as he did. he got a little Money.. and to make him the Advantage of the Return. a very tall and spacious Structure. with a fair
. and he continued
therein. in such
at last to a vast
and large Estate whereby he was enabled to do such noble Benefactions.
means. and another
lege-Halls in the Universities. until
he was Rich enough to set
up the Calling
.. he was received into good
degrees. he at length got kersies enough to Lade an Horse.
Imployment by those who managed there the Kersey Trade (for which Tiverton was then very famous). built something like the ColCupulo in the middle. and went up to London with it humbly Where being found very Diligent and Industrious."
scribed by this ever-delightful chronicler
"This House stands at the East end the Town. of which he was very Provident and Careful and bought therewith a kersey.: :
BY OAK AND THORN
vices for them. Having done so for some time. which a Carrier was so kind as to carry to London. The Pile contains one School for the Master. He came
. as they gave
him Orders. gratis.
very handsome to behold. at the enterance in from the Street. only
an entry between One hundred Foot long. All enclosed with an high and stately Wall. and the old ones.' Outwardly. and another convenient one for the Usher with very good Orchards.
. in Figure a Quadrangle. alas!
In 1880 new buildings were erected. sold under certain conditions. some
. nearly a mile away.
. coped with yellow Purbeck-Stone. were converted into dwellinghouses.
times Clothier. Close adjoyning to which. and Out-Lots. Gardens. over which is this Inscription. It hath a fair Gate at the Entry into it. in Continent one Acre of Ground. " This Free Grammar-School was Founded at the only Cost and Charge of Mr. Peter Blundell of this Town.
both. is a very large House for the Master. Thus it is that Tiverton is
no more. belonging to it. cut in Stone."
THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
for the Usher. and four and twenty broad well wainscoted and Boarded.
his Direction. "Before the School-House is a large spacious Green-Court. now rendered by Time and Weather almost illegible.
loyally holding place at the entrance
gates. but somehow they slipped my mind. I lingered." on my way from " the station. and was content.
"can the waters of the Lowman hope to cover these honored
initials. I smiled at the " fair Gate leading therein. dispelled my fancy. but the spirit of old Blundell's had fled. But next day's sun.' Such a course of action would not recommend itself to any Blundellian of
. as pins run into cracks. B. B. crying P. These facts I knew. in the ordinary
course can hardly contemplate
the possibility that the license of any boy' should extend to the length of 'rushing into the school-room." writes a
of the school. and when I passed that " high and stately Wall.
at least. I might peep within at walls and velvet sward. knowing how securely tradition rested there and would rest.
according to immemorial right. to glare at the prosperous modern buildings of new old Blundell's and greet the transplanted P.
. I fear. and then took my dusty way up the hill. scowling at the spirit of change.BY OAK AND THORN
sadly disappointing to a visitor weak in the memory. " Never again.
. because they paid no groat for their schooling and brought their own commons with them. will remember his account of the perpetual feuds between boarders and day-boys "For it had been long fixed among us. we allowed them freely to talk to us. which had long been pending between the Feoffees of the school and the inhabitants of Tiverton." Readers of Blackmore. according to F." For in 1846. Snell. that these same day-boys were all 'caddes. but that these boys required kicking from the premises of Blundell. when all the victuals were gone. " bring in his revenges. who were of the house and chambers. for our fare in hall fed appetite and. we could not feel. In consumption of these we would help them.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
the present day as likely to obtain a holiday for the school. himself a Blundellian. while we ate their victuals. H. a dispute.' as we had discovered to call it. Nevertheless. terminated in the victory of the
." consonant to eternal word. This luxury is rarely granted nowadays. a former Blundell scholar at Oxford." But at length did "the whirligig of time.
but despised and
. or ought to take any boarder and that none but boys educated as Free Scholars.
harried the native students (or " cads
Proceedings ran a long and tortuous course. videlicet Scholars free of expense in the said ought to be eligible to the School. its privileges were eaten up by boarders.
that. said Scholarships and Exhibitions. Blundell' s boasts a goodly roll of
boarders and day scholars. who not only absorbed most of the scholarship fund. matters slowly readfactory.
.BY OAK AND THORN
These worthy citizens complained whereas the Blundell benefaction had been intended primarily for Tiverton boys.
. and at the present justed themselves
sweep away at least half the number of and the provisions for teaching the remainder were by no means satisHowever. but the final decision given by the Vice-Chancellor was that "neither the Master nor the Usher of the said School ought to receive any payments from or in respect of any of the boys educated in the said School. who. if they do loyally continue the ancient feud. Then followed a dreary period for the immediate effect of the decree had been to
where "girt Jan " rested after his victory over Robin.
." mentioned tenderly by Blackmore.THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
doubtless proceed in the scientific fashion observed by John Ridd and Robin Snell. spirit of her people is worthy of
. Yet it is to be hoped that here the nimble shilling leaps from your purse into some eager. It was in Tiverton that one short day gave me a round of social delights. wrinkled hand for a shilling buys much tea. The White Horse Inn. chiefly at almshouses. Tiverton herself is all lovable in her
assured and not too flaunting prosperity. still exists in Gold Street. where dear
potter about their tiny quar-
ters in a flutter of hospitality. could scarcely have found there a congenial resting-place for they have long since
. but inevitable joy thereat is tempered by the fact that the " souls of John and Joan Greenway. but with such evident agony of soul
that you incontinently refuse the bargain and flee from temptation.
the county for nowhere in England do you find truer and more unfailing courtesy than in Devon. bringing
out their last treasures of china for your sake ancient teapots and copper-lustre half-pints which they lingeringly agree to sell.
according to Prince. no more pathetic record contained in those letters graven by men who would fain assure to themselves a brief immortality than that set
down by John and Joan Greenway. endowing them with a small weekly revenue.
They may. be
heard of across the road. at Greenway's Chapel or Almshouses. having their Epitaph engraven on it. who
seemed strangely timorous as to their reception in the next world and extravagantly desirous of establishing some sort of lien on the kindly feeling of this.
legible here follows
. perhaps. are fixed round the Edges goes a Fillet of Brass.
old Characters. in
." grew "vastly Rich." and in the early
part of the sixteenth century founded an
almshouse for a limited number of poor men. John Greenway.
. lieth this John Greenway and his Wife Joan on which the Figures of them both. and have not been diverted from
their original uses. . however. under a large Stone. " in a spacious Vault. which are still in
being. He added a chapel to the church and there.:
BY OAK AND THORN
disappeared. though " of mean parentage. curiously done in Brass. .
On them Jesu have Mercy. on which are these Words. though these labels have long since been
exterior are inscribed the mottoes
THE HAUNT OF THE DOONES
Of your Charite prey
" Out of the mouth of John Greenway proceeds a Label of Brass. ."
Oh Lord all way grant to John Grenway good fotue and grace " and In heaven a place
G. bears continually reiterated
John Greenway's heavenly
that of his spouse. Amen. and for their which Died Faders and Moders. even after sad experience of the vandalism known as restoration. And.
then to thee
pray. the same pious wish. the chapel.
for the Souls
John and Joan Greenway his Wife .
" Of your charitie pray for the Souls
John Greenway and
benefit of the
His wife had. in her own name. and for their Friends and their Lovers.
BY OAK AND THORN
Everywhere was repeated that pathetic some far and John GreenDid he find way " Alas. or was he by nature a distrustful soul. the champion wrestler and eater of beef. and lived there a life of rapine and shame that John Ridd. who shrank from those new worlds which the poorest Is he. is hotly believed in by the sons of Devon.
what must be the conclusion of the whole matter? That a band of outlaws two hundred years ago built their huts in an isolated valley.
ever-living. at of us must conquer ?
injunction. to whom legend has been handed down like family jewels and that Tom Faggus and his strawberry mare. indeed. like a cry from " Pray for solitary land
or doth his immortal part
test against its progress to another star
Pray for his soul
And in this relic-hunting of the Doones.
. But what are these but the dry bones of belief? Supreme and vital walks the glowing truth that a beautiful book was bom of their ashes. and even Betty Muxworthy.
. and that its fame
. poor ghost this earth and his foothold at Tiverton too goodly to be relinquished. are articles of local faith.
fortifications. and doomed to exlOI
LIBRARY UNIVERSITY Or CALIFOR
secluded spot awaiteth him many By night. stone-rings. cromlechs. legendary
hero and crown of chivalry. that he has
To this day.
rows. of saint
has preserved more of its old-time character than any other corner in England. and lowland rushes whisper his name. to
Here are barand ruined
of Dryasdust. on entering its borders.
haunted by demons. and the traveler need spur his imagination but slightly to feel. Varied and seemingly inexhaustible are
its antiquities. His prowess is chanted by mountain streamlets. and most appropriately .
fairies. may hear the wailing of Tregeagle. spirit
still. he a delightsome morsel.
occupy the speculations Neither need the romanfor in this
wanderer depart unfed. for it is the county
of giants hero.
reached the land of ancient custom and romance. Cornwall wears the renown of his birth.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
over England are scattered the of King Arthur.
In CornHe wall lived also the Giant Bolster. who first earned his sobriquet of " Giant Killer " by slaying the terrible Cormoran. overrun with giants. builder and lord of Saint Michael's Mount.
. in self-defense. from the story of the Giant Cormoran to that of Britain's hero-king. like most regions diversified by a huge and rocky formation. spoons. made nothing of compassing six miles at a stride. All over the duchy are scattered names recalling that age of wonder. graves. from whom it was delivered by that noble Jack. and yet was overtaken by fate in the person of Saint Agnes. whom he so persecuted with offers of affection that she was compelled.
and though one legend
clares that the devil dare not enter Corn-
wall for fear of being
(for at least three
into a pie
.BY OAK AND THORN
piate a wicked life
by perpetual toil at he may steep his soul in that solace which is a sort of intellectual nicotine by turning the pages of legend.
pulpits. was once. to entrap him into an amiable suicide.
according to the popular belief. son of a wealthy farmer near Land's End. There are
giants' cradles. Cornwall.
their name is that of a legion alarming to the conservative foreigner. star-gazing pies.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
pasty have flourished at one time or another on the west Tamar side). to giants or the devil.
clares. The most casual consideration of it puts forever to flight certain dogmatic assertions regarding the lack of variety in English cooking. as hath been said. lammy pies. Only a temperate mind may choose among such pretty dishes "to set before the king.
a subject for wonder when we consider that before the Christian era they were
. In short. and conger-eel. concocted of the succulent kid and. however. duck. pilchard fishing is the great industry of the coast. The subject of Cornish pies. is one which is not to be lightly dismissed." Today. Cornwall has pies of beef. scarcely mines are almost exhausted. as one antiquary dethe eastern part of Cornwall
every phenomenon out of the common course is referred to King Arthur in the west. in
Indeed. still he has served as sponsor for many a natural
oddity. made of pilchards.
The local tin in tin and copper. furnishing a wealth not to be despised beside that which once
This was a quaint and simple people. I
. the comparison of their clotted cream with the cream of Devon.
Droll-tellers. have been preserved the customs of a sparsely chron. old civilization and here.BY OAK AND THORN
time. to sing folk baland repeat old tales.
. when in Devonshire. "Aunt Mary." or tales of marvel and delight. to a very late date. Roman. a
"uncle" and "aunt "were freely interchanged among them in token of respect and affection and thus did the Virgin Mary come to be tenderly spoken of as Modryb Marya. and Phoenician merchants with metal loaded at the port Iktis. however. "Ah." That I firmly believe and yet.
. went formerly from house to house. Even as late
as the first part of the present century
two such venders of "drolls. is an old. "It takes Cornish cows. albeit somewhat chary of communicating its
old-time legends to alien folk. now Saint Michael's Mount. to this day rouses them to wrath. you can't make Cornish cream anywhere else " said a wise old woman. were still alive. This." One subject. therefore. gladly welcomed and
how In the earth smiles in leaf and bloom its valleys.
full of terrible crags. to the very beginning of their rocky deis
fenses. foxgloves are reddened by a lustier current.
coast of Cornwall
rock-bound. Over the headlands. on the south coast. and.
the gorse has a more golden glow. of
grows the pink thrift. delicate and gracious sojourner from a warmer clime. found nowhere else but in Portugal. quite amaz!
ing in a country of England's latitude. Near the Lizard
. In the sweet freshness of the sea winds every petal assumes a
brilliancy of tint
rosier. There is no such cream as the Cornish cream save
in Devonshire. roof-high. painting the rocks themselves.
in Cornwall. inland from its rocky strongholds. Its domestic features have a
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
convinced of the paramount excellence of Devonshire cows.
and beaten upon by mighty surges. Fuchsias. adorn the cottage fronts scarlet geraniums and roses clamber to their very eaves. creeps a golden lichen.
grows the wonderful Cornish heath. blossoms a tropical wealth of flowers.
Many a village is under
cottages. by way of
Boscastle.BY OAK AND THORN
Tiny stone all their own. Saint
rich in a store of
antiquarian memories. indeed.
saintly patronage. one authority deis
clares that in the Cornish folk-lore
distinguish their deeds from
those of the giants. and with a square tower often high enough for a beacon.
unfamiliar with the face of this particular 1 06
. or Saint Just.
A public coach furnishes conveyance from Newquay to Tintagel. crouching low to avoid the winds. like Saint Ives. and whose
name has passed
into the literature of
France and Italy. each little hamlet with its gray stone church. to creep back from the former into his own land by means of Sir Thomas Malory's pen and Caxton's
press. In seeking this land of eld. certain to delight the artistic eye. my first thought was of that heroic king giant among his contemporaries who set his seal upon the sixth century. stand in clustering sociability. whitewashed and roofed with slate. and adorned by fine headlands and a quaint harbor.
Saints were plenit
or Trissad of name. with hawk on wrist. a royal yellow trefoil.
with a surface of two feet at the top. either planted with shrubs or left bare for a footpath. It is monotonous compared with certain
drives along the
. but gay in tram carolled. lies
luxuriance of growth
The Cornish hedges are literally banks. perhaps over the ground where Iseult rode. the sky was full of windy Gallic grace. especially in the
south. I have gathered pimpernel. made of earth and stone. and often
and bloom. thyme. wind-swept hills. This is a country of ridgy. and foxglove from their crannies but chiefly are they overspread with a rich mantle of heath.
. and honeysuckle. and looking down into sweet valleys.
such as one would be loath to miss. the road reads a pleasing prelude to the peculiar beauties of Cornwall.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
region. On that day when we drove to Tintagel. Yet the whole landscape was lightened and glo. garnished by a scanty tree growth. clouds and the air passing chill. some of them ten feet high. In this cementing earth has taken root all manner of creeping things Besides the may and blossoming life. where.
Past quarries and great refuse-heaps of slate the road leads down and then up again into the little town of Tintagel. to a steep and winding path over the very face of
. by island. scene of the siege of Gorlois. or Trevena. from stone to stone. hand thus
. rich lines of crimson
on by a daring and prodigal brush.
to Cornwall. the fair Igraine. by Uther Pendragon. where a bold promontory juts out into the deep. Duke of Tintagel.
wife. where stood twin castles on headland and promontory.BY OAK AND THORN
by these hedges of rose -purple
Trevena a path winds seaward. and
lady. however. and undoubtedly the place of Arthur's birth. like broad. This was once connected with the mainland by a drawbridge and twin fortiflcations stood on either side. and over a seemingly perway. until the falling of a crag had made the promontory into an It may be reached. had visited the court and there King Uther turned on the lady such eyes of favor that she besought her husband to take her home
Vain flight for Uther Pendragon followed.
clasped in hand. Gorlois. killed the duke.
he enters what was undoubtedly an actual British stronghold. if that tale be but idly told.
. flocks of sheep are peacefully feeding among the huge. or landing-place. but helpless.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
. How must Igraine have trembled when. fronted by a heavy wooden door. a possible altar-stone. and for in that childlike age such knew that destiny had things were known her in toils from which there was no eslittle cove. Or. the climber is conthe cliff. once
firm in towered
strength above the changing tide. and the sea dashes at them. if not that of Tintagel's duke. Within. disdainful.
and rough as mountain
fastnesses. when this swings back. caping makes its way between the two headlands and here perhaps the babe Arthur was washed up to the hands of Merlin. disordered
of stone. obedient to the key with which he is entrusted.
rocks like con-
quering giants. shut up for safety while her lord occupied the castle of Terrabil. but. Here are the foundations of chapel and castle. mighty. she heard the waves moan and the wind howl. and the signs of
King of Cornwall.
. sent for her. until Tristram. Over these waves she sailed and there in Brittany. feeding his eye
. He had been educated in Brittany. and to their own undoing. Here did Iseult pine and suffer after their separation. playthings of an unswerving fate. Tristram was nephew of
access to Igraine's favor.BY OAK AND THORN
was assuredly born of Igraine in that very castle. one must linger long in it. waiting for him outside the postern gate. To catch the spirit of this place. and delivered into the charge of Sir Ector.
Mark. with her tristful lover. according to the compact made by the king with the magician. through the craft of Iseult's maid. to shrive him from sorrow with her kiss. Tristram and Iseult. Mark's ambassador to bring home the fair Iseult for her crowning. wedded in Brittany to Iseult of the White Hands. knight and lady. and brought thence the embroidery of manner for which France has ever been a nursery. when Merlin procured Uther Pendragon
At Tintagel dwelt also those unhappy lovers. in his mortal illness. she died. drank a potent love-philter. and thenceforward loved deathlessly.
It is a coast
stone seems to hold se-
crets of the past. in
whose likeness Arthur
tive haunts. On one bluff.
revisits his na-
unrecognized by } Skirting the headland at the left of the church. is a strangely sweet and solemn
experience.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
with the changeful beauty of the sea. and pondering on the rocky might of the unyielding shore. neighbored by its quiet graveyard and approached through the solemn lychgate.
if mistaken resolve and of that death which leads to deathless fame. To climb this height in the late afternoon and watch the sun until it sinks into the sea. dip their wings and wheel back again. and death and worship keep ward behind. with its stone slab for supporting the coffin while the bearers rest. with all the magnificence of a changeful but silent pageant. of a time of tragic love. why should not the red-legged chough. winding down by zigzagging deIII
. At such a moment. rising sheer and steep from the water. stands the little church.
fly. or rest an instant on the unquiet deep.
rock to rock. while the water ceaselessly washes on the crags below.
to be taken away in boats. like Guinevere's little maid. cutting
only. and known as Cornish diamonds. they are gone. as the gray wings of twilight softly settle. however. perhaps murmuring. perhaps. in safety. when many mighty lords coveted succes-
that destiny has not for
of tragedy as
" I thank the saints I
all such store brought those childlike.
dark-haired. seemingly on the face of the cliff. passionate souls of an earlier day who dwelt in rock-bound castles. at almost the perilous height where samphire gatherers hang. or crystals found in the quarried slate. and yet. and sleep. Then. At twilight. and challenged fate in the daily struggles of a tumultuous living.
miner comes striding across the height. past the
rectory. turn homeward by the lowly road sunken
in the valley. to the unaccustomed eye. to offer you sea-birds' eggs for sale. There they toil..
BY OAK AND THORN
grees. After the death of Uther Pendragon.
ered in green.
a path leading to the slate quarall
day men are splitting and sending it over into the harbor. and the place is still and there
as some say.
whereon stood Arthur's
The view from
the circular grassy rampart takes in the placid valley of the Usk. naked. a stone.
acres in circumference.
midst a steel anvil. Merlin counseled the Archbishop of Canterbury to send all the gentlemen of the realm to London and there they found. by the point and letters of gold were written about the sword saying thus " Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise born King of England." And many knights essayed the task but none but Arthur could pull it out.. depressed in the
centre. and afterwards crowned at Stonehenge. he was merely consecrated there. Caerleon but is a town of indisputable antiquity to-day all it can offer the most enthusiastic pilgrim is a grassy mound. Therein sword. against the high altar. it was at the city of Caerleon upon Usk or.
arose the nobles whether he were a truly begotten son of Uther Pendragon.
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
sion to the throne. so that his corona"lightly
fiercely. in the great church
of the city. when at was long deferred was holden.
" down from Astolat.
stream. the " Lily Maid.
wander by the smooth-flowing Itchen.
spot.BY OAK AND THORN
when Elaine. he kept
his royal state at tling
Camelot and. with the faith of the tourist
. perhaps. Was it Winchester ? That is a goodly and ancient town and.
of Arthur's supremhe held court at Camelot or at Westminster. he
When he had married Guinevere. or Guildford.
and these are flanked by others higher yet the prospect is neither bold nor vast. It seems to mirror the
. it must be remembered. At the latter place. his seat was fixed
acy. and can be content with what the wise may frown upon.-'
an oft-proven Baedeker. daughter of King Leodograunce. shall
we pronounce him
childishly credulous Or. the
he have not a painfully critical mind. if he choose to
please his fancy. who shall blame him ? look with reverent eye upon the stone
coffin there displayed as Arthur's.
. in setupon the modern equivalent of
. dreaming of souls more heroic than Izaak If he Walton.
join the Severn.
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
Camelot was Camelford. the two highest mountains in Cornwall. a from Trevena. in the midst of a fertile and diversified country. but not of Arthur's battle. square-towered church.
lets. Scene of a British fight no doubt The it was. and commanding a right royal view of wood. is in favor of Queen's Camel. stands a hill.
symbol of the peaceful domestic life which slept and ate below that heroic one of court and chivalry. in Somersetshire. Not far from Camelford is the stone
bridge called " Slaughter Bridge. and tor beyond." said to be the scene of Arthur's disastrous defeat. however. to be set up in better view) has nothing whatever to do with the British king. leveled at the top to form a circular plain. At its feet lie scattered ham. Yet no one need waste over it for antiquaries too deep a sentiment have declared that the half obliterated inscription on the slab once spanning the stream (and some years ago removed. most reliable evidence. or South Cadbury. meadow.
cottages. There. each group with
gray. presided over by Row Tor and Brown Willy. Here Guine-
ings and dotted trees do not in the least
serve to break that sweeping
of Arthur's defeat. lost in the highest
down a Danae shower. Here did the innocent glow of their first that of knight and sovereign bond
— — deepen
that passion which
of Salisbury Plain. if
upon him a certainty that
not the strength of the
hills. past Old Sarum.
the sun intermittently casts yet still is the ii6
. and gradually
their ascending scale
from the first low-brooding ground. loneliest land-stretch
Eximaginable by poet or dreamer.
" that last weird battle in the West. by the voluntary testimony of those who have compared the poetic values of the region is in favor
their utter loneliness."
has not been determined with absolute certainty but the balance of evidence swelled.BY OAK AND THORN
vere and Launcelot kissed and sighed. Let the wayfarer wind slowly up and up from spired Salisbury town. actly what it is which stamps the plain with eerie awesomeness it would be difficult to say.
notes to ecstatic lyrics.
sphinx become blind and dumb. the very spirit of the desert.
but. was the scene of a British victory. about which clings a legend of Merlin. when the Britons proposed commemorating it by a monument. oppressing the soul. Merlin advised them to take away from a mountain in Ireland the structure called the Giant's Dance. monstrous presence.
. says tradition. the disordered
order of Stonehenge. There is a
certain dramatic satisfaction in imagin-
ing the battle here. he called Merlin to his aid.
. under the very shadow of the triumphal pile erected by Arthur's fostering magician.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
a formless. finding the task
beyond the power of mortal mechanics. formed of stones stolen by giants from the coast of
and possessing mystical virtues. Here was
Briton's triumph here was a Briton overthrown. was Uther Pendragon who finally conquered Ireland. Crowning the utmost height of the plain are those giant monoliths. and sought to reAfrica. Not far from here. It is the sphinx. and. who speedily accomplished it by magic.
'Through this knight and me all the wars were wrought. of all the incidents which
King Arthur. in its passionate simplicity.
sight of yonder knight which
swooned three times.
cheer. that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough for to hold the queen up.BY OAK AND THORN
To the east of Stonehenge." This was the scene of her last interview with Sir Launcelot. she called the ladies and gentlewomen unto her Ye
said she. in a greenly wooded valley. then she said.
. Almesbury. most moving. was
form this tragic chronicle "And then was Queen Guenever aware of Sir Launcelot as he walked in and when she saw him the cloister
marvel. where Guinevere sought refuge when she " understood that her lord. and the death of the most noble knights of the world for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. So.
unto me. lies the little
ladies.' And when Sir Launcelot was brought unto her. when she might speak.
Sir Launcelot. .
creatures as ever was
heaven. and keep well thy realm from war and wreck.
furthermore. and beseech thee heartily. now mine heart will not once serve me to see thee for through me and thee are the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore. go thou unto thy realm. and live with her in joy and bliss and I beseech you heartily pray for me unto our Lord God. and at the dreadful day of doom
grace. Sir Launcelot. Sir Launcelot.
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
Therefore. for all the love that ever was between us two
that thou never look
may amend my misliving. I am set in such a plight to get my soul's health and yet I trust. and there take thee a wife.
that thou forsake
on God's behalf. For as well as I have loved
thee. that after
to sit on his right side.' Then like a true knight obedient
. right straightly my company. " Therefore.
my death for to have the sight of the blessed face of Jesu Christ. and that
unto thy kingdom shortly thou return again.
. through God's
. I require thee. wit thou well. Sir Launcelot.
he also must take to prayer and penance while life
be assoiled from sin and there he remained "serving God. madam. for there was lamentation as though they had been stung with spears.' And so they departed but there was never so hardhearted a man but he would have wept to see the sorrow they made. and many times they swooned. He threw away his armor. weeping. and nevermore. where a little bell was ringing to mass. and lay I20
." And when Sir Launcelot at length rode away through the forest. charging him to hasten to Almesbury. " * Wherefore. I pray you kiss me once.' " * Nay.
came to him a vision.BY OAK AND THORN
answer her he had hoped to carry her into his own realm and country. where he would find Queen Guinevere dead thence should he carry her body. but abstain you from such things. since she would not have it so. and knelt to
' . he came upon a hermitage and a chapel. day and night. although
should last. that shall I never do . did Sir Launcelot
that.' said the queen. with prayers and fastings." After six
its habitation. truly mine heart would not serve me to sustain my wretched and careful body. and noble queen. the dying queen had learned. that she " might never see Sir Launcelot with her worldly eyes.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
beside that of
King Arthur. .
her beauty. that sometime was so highly set in most honorable places. for the two days before her death. where she was buried.
time. with dirge and requiem and there did he speak over her those lofty words." For the mighty passion of that love had burnt on and on through hours of penance and prayer it had eaten up the mortal frame. as with her and also when I saw the corpse of that noble king. that Launcelot had been
called to that dolorous task. so lie together in that cold grave made of earth. Then did Sir Launcelot and seven fellow-monks bear the queen's body to Glastonbury." Amesbury was one of the oldest
. my Lord Arthur. and it was her prayer.
. and her nobleness. also in a vision. her bounty. that was as well with her king. which fitly end the tragic tale " My sorrow may never have an end.
is a still and thoughtful place. does not cover the site
of the former
included within private grounds. An almost uninterrupted tradition declares that these islands were once joined to the mainland by a well-
populated strip of land. bearing ever a haunting suggestion of romance and
— afterwards a convent Benedictine nuns — doubtless
ished under the protection of Aurelius Ambrosius. and the stones once forming the walls have
hopelessly lost their identity
at the present day.
church. a bare backbone
. however. the British prince who so
long and so successfully defended his country against the Saxons.
remembrance." and a lonely church sits in the
the scene of Arthur's
great struggle in the land of Lyo-
nesse. though enThis compassed by lowly dwellings. Past the little town winds Avon's " troutful stream. under the eternal washing of the
surge sweeping between Land's End and the Scilly Isles.BY OAK AND THORN
centres of British civilization. seen under a shifting sky.
it is unknown whether Lyonesse was slowly eaten away by the greedy sea or whether it sank under swift convulsion. what must have been the sweetness of the sandy reaches and the calm bays. What their farms and gardens were. with un-
. Since the land of Lyonesse lives no longer. That such a land once existed is upheld by the fact that a neighboring coast region was undoubtedly subject to the same calamity of tidal overflow for of the submerged forests off Mount's Bay there is historic witness.
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
mountain stretching through the cenand fertile valleys edging its shores.
breath of the Gulf Stream. however. In Lyonesse lived a prosperous and pious people.
. Their churches were a hundred and forty. one would fain fancy it to have been even a fairer and less melancholy spot than
Tennyson has made
it. when doom overtook them possibly not in haste. But there came a day. the sea rose and overwhelmed his home. As a matter of fact. for one man had time to reach the mainland before.. save in imagination. cherisher of bloom. can be imagined by those who have tasted the airs that are here the
tre. says the story.
let . This was the
ness.BY OAK AND THORN
mind. surmounted by Saint Michael's Tower. rest the bones of Arthur and Guinevere. it has a maiden sweetspringtime charm. Here the flat monotony of green field is relieved by hay-ricks and stacks of black peat. from the richness
of its orchards. and attaching it to the west coast of Cornwall " The railway approach to Glastonbury fills the mind with a new astonishment at the wonderful diversity of English scenery.
lieve. culminates in Wearyall Hill. Island of
Avalon. Glastonbury Tor rises to the south like a huge cone. belonging chiefly to those mystic regions which " eye hath not seen. natural monument to Saint Joseph and his blossoming staff. Scarcely a spot in England has such store of memories for the antiquarian and romantic mind. As you near the town. ridgy elevation. In the year sixty!
.us faithfully be-
even though it is Professor Rhys who tells us that he feels "warranted in unmooring the magic spot. extending toward the west. ancient nursery of the British Church. familiarly known as AvalApples.
To my own
Ionia." At Glastonbury.
and to-day enriched by the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey.
when he and his companions had rested. that they should abide in the place.
be preserved. they found that the staff had put forth miraculous sign leaf and blossom. connected with it by a galilee. weary with wandering. and seek the island covered with brushwood. There. this spot deserve the reverence due to ancient and consecrated ground. dwelt and he sion kept the place holy and round about the little wattled church was built one of stone.!
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
three. landed in Britain. lo
Spirit. but it is the actual link connecting the Church of the present day with the Christian
. succespriestly died. Then did Joseph go down into the valley. and the great church at the east of it. was completed
. and built a There little church of wood.
Arimathea and eleven some say sent by Saint Philip
Not only does a century after his death. and.
continued their journey until they reached this ridgy hill. that the old and sacred walls might
. the saint" stuck his thorn staff into the ground. The present Saint Joseph's Chapel was erected by Henry II. or wattles. and. Joseph of
often receiving five
guests at a time.
Then good Abbot Whiting mistake he hid from them
of the vessels and plate. was
life. however. As Freeman states. it was "the one great institution which bore up untouched through the storm of English conquest. and.
scene of his encoun-
ter with the temptations of a worldly
and where he valiantly seized the devil by the nose. He entertained magnificently. the Abbot of Glastonbury had
almost royal prerogatives in his small but wealthy domain. Until Henry VHI. too.
Up to the Tower of Lonbe afterwards haled
don was he
sent.'s vandal day.BY OAK AND THORN
worship of ancient Britain.
tradition even declares that
in Saint Joseph's Chapel. to
The universities were flooded by
he was buried Here. was forthwith accused of rob-
bing his church.
cell. To his miniature court were sent young gentlemen to be fitted
with the accomplishments suited to their
station. was too rich a field not to attract the scent of the greedy Tudor. and Henry's commissieners settled upon the abbey like a swarm
of locusts." On this soil
Saint Patrick dwelt and labored.
sit in -the midst of a green and velvet field.
with an exquisite refinement of brutality. Saint Joseph's Chapel is still a thing of wonder. From this time of tragic overthrow. drawn on a hurdle to the top of Glastonbury Tor. and there hanged. and sun and shower bless it. the abbey began to fall into decay its stones were used in the town buildings. but stately portion of the large church yet remains. crowned now by the wild rose and pink and yellow sedum.THE LAND OF ARTHUR
back. but the monks. adorned by a wilderness of bush and weed striving ever to fill its crypt meagre and smother the foundations. having only lapsed into that desolation which is never unlovely. he was executed in sight of home. with Arthur and Guinevere. and
of the Bishop's
to death in the hall Palace at Wells. Sheep are tamely feeding about the enclosure. To-day the gray remains. have been so long fallen into dust that only their echoing names float back into our
. and even to pave the roads across the marshes to Wells. But.
. instinct with a wonderful strength and beauty. rich in two of the magnificent columns which once separated nave from choir.
which is the carpet of ruins. occupying two thirds of the length from the head downwards.
evidently placed there as
some important personages. contained the body of a man. of such stature that his tibia reached to the middle of a tall man's thigh. One of them. when
. It was in two divisions..BY OAK AND THORN
later day. however. adorned still by one tress of golden hair. an abbot determined to dig beneath two stone pyramids standing
just outside Saint Joseph's Chapel.
In the reign of Richard
I. and was but carried to Avalon for the healing of his wounds. a coffin was found. same time and place they came upon a leaden cross. a monk snatched too At the eagerly. hollowed out of an oak-tree. and it fell into dust.
scending sixteen feet. and placed before the high altar. In the lower partition lay a female figure. At this. where now the soil into which they have been transmuted nourishes the daisy-starred grass. But if the king died not.
says tradition. bearing the inscription in Latin. " Here lies buried in the Island Avallonia the renowned King Arthur." The bones were afterward removed to the great church.
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
story " sometimes
represents Arthur and his men dozing away, surrounded by their treasures, in a cave in Snowdon, till the bell of destiny rings the hour for their sallying forth to victory over the Saxon foe
sometimes they allow themselves to be
seen of a simple shepherd, whiling away in the cavities of Cadbury and sometimes they are described lying beneath the Eildon Hills, buried in an enchanted sleep, to be broken at length by one
their time at chess
" That bids the '
charmed sleep of ages
Rolls the long sound through Eildon's caverns vast, "While each dark warrior rouses at the blast,
his falchion, grasps with mighty hand,
peals proud Arthur's inarch
In a field adjoining the abbey grounds, stands the Abbot's Kitchen, an excellent example of early domestic architecture. It is a building square without, octagonal within, furnished with huge fireplaces at the corners (wherein one can stand and look up to the sky), and a
central louvre for light and ventilation.
cruciform tithe -bam, ancient inns, historic churches also invite
the antiquarian eye.
BY OAK AND THORN
squalid dwellings, to Wearyall Hill will
only be rewarded by a small tablet set the ground where stood Joseph's miraculous thorn but all over the town he will be offered slips from that marin
velous tree, which
must have been as wide - spreading as a banyan, to have been so cut and distributed. However it came, there is no doubt that Glastonbury possesses a species of thorn which probably brought from the East blooms twice a year, once at the usual time and again in the winter, though it is only by a poetic license which none but the hypercritical will dispute, that it is said to open exactly on Christmas Day. The ascent of Glastonbury Tor, by an
approaching the breezy summit, one
for frequent inter-
vals of rest, clutching the long grass as
a safeguard against rolling down again. But once under the shadow of Saint Michael's Tower, doubtless a pilgrim shrine, such breathless effort is amply
repaid. Below lies Glastonbury, no longer an island, but surrounded by fair
THE LAND OF ARTHUR
fields in place of its once glassy streams, and dotted with greenery. Wells Cathedral marks out that little town, like a and in the far discarven finger-post tance, beyond the Mendips, a shadowy cloud on the horizon, lie the hills of Wales. On the day of my visit two little maids sat together under a shelter;
ing wall, in a field at the foot of the Tor, each with her knitting. " Is it a very hard hill to climb } "
asked I. " Oh, no, miss," said one, lifting her serious blue eyes for an instant from her work, " it is easy, quite easy." But I did not find it so and neither, I fancy, did poor Abbot Whiting, even though he had a hurdle, and had left
responsibility forever behind.
THE BRONTE COUNTRY
who would know Eng-
her moods must assuredly visit Yorkshire as well as the smiling Midland counties and if he be a literary pilgrim, and would fain understand in
lonely spirits, the Bronte sisters, let
some measure those three great and him
seek out the moors where they walked and meditated, and vainly explore the region round for one glimpse of the softer brightness that is the welcome of the
Keighley, on the direct road from Leeds and four miles from Haworth, has a comfortable inn, the Devonshire Arms, where the tourist is made hospitably welcome. It fronts on one of the principal streets and seated at its window, the
visitor is within arm's length of
of sickly mill-operatives, standing about
on the pavement during the noon hour, no doubt discussing the problem of keeping body and soul together, or hurrying past to the cheerless monotony of their
of coughing continu-
ally frets the air. should the much-blasphemed will of God afflict them by a dispensation of illThis was always the cheerful atness. on a rainy
. from the nervous hack of incipient disease to the convulsion destined to shake
and tear the body like a destroying fiend. and set in the dogged lines of endurance worn by those who have abandoned all hope. Its houses are of a dark and dismal gray stone. Keighley is a frowning town.THE BRONTE COUNTRY
unsmiling day. and use alone has been
The most forcible impression made on the new-comer is that the swarming herd of workmen and women
deified. to confess the peccadillo of having written one of the greatest novels
of her time. even of earning the daily loaf.
the varied notes of that tragic scale. mosphere of the town nearest Charlotte Bronte's home and from such grim shelter she went up to London. they are pallid. And the faces young and old. and the very atmosphere
overspread by that grim and unmis-
takable look which is testimony that beauty is naught.
are victims of consumption
That all the unseen. tacit yielding. within the gloomy parsonage walls. when the invisible proclaimed itself the only real. because she had not the personal strength needHer ful for sustaining an argument. insane
." she once said. and every jot of evidence from those who knew her best.
intangible influences of
— those the imagined world — affected
her most keenly is evident from the selfbetrayal in her books. meant only that she could not hold the ground of dogmatic assertion. " Something seemed near me.BY OAK AND THORN
more potent than determining the bent of sensitive souls. at times. but one swept and thrilled by every breath of nature or finger of event. What must she have felt when. she and the two sharers of her vigil expected to hear that pistol-shot which would tell them that Branwell. however. she yet hesitated. in reference to some moment of prescience. Hers was not a soul for fear. The most honest and honorable of women. in speaking her opinion. Charlotte Bronte was a creature so fine as to have been affected by every mental and spiritual breath.
has of the past. that we took the train for Haworth. and only the old square tower is an actual memento The parsonage. climbed that steep and stony street which leads to church and parsonThere is very little satisfaction in age. for the edifice has been rebuilt. her nerves tense with anguish and the desire to touch some comfort outside the barren present ? Certainly it is most true that. and scan her heaven with a studious eye. bleak and populous.
himself repaid for invading them.
. It was on a day woven of fanciful fabric. one must actually stand in the paths where she walked. But the churchyard. unable to sleep. visiting the church and examining its shining tablets to the Bronte family. been remodeled and though parts of the kitchen walls have been retained.THE BRONTfe COUNTRY
from opium and misery. had killed his ? Or when. the most curious visitor would scarcely find
father or himself
. she paced the silent house at midnight. too. shot athwart with sun. to judge her character from the inside. Anne and Emily no longer alive. is
. and leaving the station. and darkened by sudden misty showers.
where. is the gala time for the heather then is it in full glory of rose-purple.
. This was the way to the " mo-ors. or the first of September. where Branwell caroused. with shawl thrown over her head.BY OAK AND THORN
neighbor. swinging her great house-key. had been to the churchyard where lay her husband's grave." " Flowers brighter than said Charlotte.
the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her out of a sullen hollow in
. Still do the "purple-black " moors." August. One we overtake on the
afternoon of our visit. the one delight of Yorkshire. wear the face with which they enchained Emily's loyal heart.
suited to the mountain-tops of lonely figure only did
life. and spoke peace to all three battling spirits. " My sister Emily loved the moors. and prodigal in bloom. gaunt woman. a tall.
make an Eden. with an indescribable broadening of the vowels." she told us. who. on a day of sun overhead and bloom under foot. the Black Bull Inn. one finds a delight and exhilaration
a livid hillside her mind could
. A path leads by the parsonage and through a gate out upon this free moorland wilderness.
forlorn place. and heather. and fleeting shadows chasing the light over low-lying valleys in the distance That day the ling was in full bloom.
It rained as we walked along the ling-bordered path. for Charlotte and her sisters had been
said to delight
it. but the " mo-ors " were company.
. somewhat earlier in its coming. of sky too often clouded.
was a lonely She herself had
come here from the north to be near her husband's people and now he was dead.
been touched with the immortal fire of the ideal.
region. she confessed. of sweeping winds and drizzling
alone. and blue sky briefly smiled.
wound about one
knoll after another of
the curving moor. and yet to whom duty was ever that "stern law-giver" from whose decree they could never swerve. It was easy to see that they might be. lo the clouds were swept aside.THE BRONTE COUNTRY
This path was called the Bronte Walk. and talked of those three women whose hearts and lips had
rain. Ling is far more sober in its general
. in that region of gray villages. What tongue can speak the sad beauty of the heather with the sun upon it. still showed rosy in the sun-patches.
and from which you fancy yourself able to see all the countries of the earth. a
and gray. and take footing in the crisp heather that crackles under foot
with a husky protest. declares even a
sister. close to the eye.
than those of
Quaker maiden of the barren hills. and a new horizon line. you meet an occasional flock of feeding sheep . verging on
Yet. a ringing of with the delusive whispering chimes. solitudes. but goes away rich in the certainty that he has not seen the confines of the moors. the left. there are still more knolls. hope of hurrying to the top of some knoll forming the horizon line.BY OAK AND THORN
. a tiny watercourse bars the way. On and on sweeps the heavenly monotony of these brown-gray If you cling only to the path. heather-covPerhaps ered. the moor goes billowing on
the fixed heavings of an amethystine sea. It is no easy Traverse hill and hollow.
finer grace. he is happier who does not seek the highest vantage-ground to over-sweep villages in distant valleys. and task. Leave the path. and that their extent is infinite.
and personal happiness dies or is still-born.
as fancy pictures the spot. and lays waste the land
when the winter wind
with his invisible sword
and their brother's Yet were they undaunted. heather a withered waste indoors they must sit beneath the shadow of their
. they have yet the strength to build for themthat mighty lesson of the
spirit. fanning the
agination until their chilled hearts were
warmer from the
that.THE BRONTE COUNTRY
or a dismal stone house.
father's rigorous life
clung to patience. and the loved.
have stirred us anew with
power of the marvelous sway of the few endowed with the gift we call genius. they builded a great bonfire
. these bleak
company than none. and shudders
remembering how winter as well
three tender women here imprisoned in a hermitage they Skies might be scowling. that though the body faint.
rages across them.
frowning at the
But what must they
and such near neighbor is it to the church-
Martha that many
impossible to look at the Black
Bull without an unjust feeling of rancor. and yet could not be discharged and it was through
monuments more enduring than which are as finger-posts to all
other striving souls
Over a little stationer's shop in the was then a sparse collection of
Bronte relics pencil drawings. and its share in his wrong-doing. The keeper of this little store of curiosities was a relative of that Martha who had been Tabby's helpmate in the kitchen. finished with the exquisite care characterizing every work from Charlotte's fingers. and various household articles bought from the auctionsale after her death.
remembering its fascination for Branwell. when she became too old for work.!
BY OAK AND THORN
It is a small tavern of the gray stone so unfortunately common in the region.
of the articles
ety and a
a Bronte Socistrange antitheses
to the seclusion of those shrinking lives. her little old-fashioned shawl (somehow so like her that it is more precious than the whole collection).
Chatterton wrote his mother. on her way to seek and
draw him home. as he was said to do. spent the few days of their stay
London. devote a thought to the Brontes in London. doubtless through a long course of years its only women visitors.
the geniuses there. when he heard Charlotte's voice. sir ? " a stranger would be asked at the inn."
." And then poor Branwell (or Patrick. " Do you want some one to help you with your bottle. in that burst of deceptive pride. and walk through Paternoster Row with the recollection that here stood the Chapter Coffee-house where Charlotte and Anne.
The actually " passionate pilgrim who leaves unturned no stone beneath
lies the weed of remembrance. " I am quite familiar at the Chapter Coffee-house. " If you do. of which the very suspicion covered his sisters with shame and horror. I '11 send up for Patrick. as he was familiarly called) would be swept into those orgies."
THE BRONTE COUNTRY
yard that one can easily fancy him leaping from its window into the yard.
The house was
seat of the dingy room.
Brontes. so that
to walk in the paths their feet
have trod and look into the skies that sheltered them ? It is more than curiosity. when its fame had scholar somewhat declined.
and of their bewilderment
the noise of " the City " surging without Yet Charlotte always declared she loved the busy City better than the West End the one existed for work. Think of the two little creatures clinging together in a window . to hear what might have hap.
. Do we follow
. had no idea that they were doing anything unusual in making and it proved a it their stopping place hospitable and kindly shelter. Is there not heavenly significance in
the chord which
when we approach the
great and beloved souls. country clergymen and university men occasionally sought it out.
through their father's rare visits.BY OAK AND THORN
was once the meeting-place of wit and and later. the other for luxury and fashion.
to the opera.
letters. more than the satisfaction of a romantic hero-worship.
if such a thing might be.
. and he does well who throws himself into such sympathetic understanding yet even for him "the greatest is behind.THE BRONTE COUNTRY
earthly footprints with such minuteness because we would "pluck out the heart of their mystery.
Name." By diligent searching. the secret of that which made them thus ? Such influences fostered them. such soil Shall we not be a gave them birth." and learn. He can only trace the glow left by its progress. not only them. at the one unspeakable
. and stop where scientist and Christian alike must pause. he shall never analyze the divine spark illuminating the soul with its own radiance of beauty. we say. but the little nearer great Source of greatness if we learn the story of their sojourn here ? It is wisely resolved.
lish. had also gone the way of the dead-andalive
and may be told while the hourglass runs a measure of sand such as Queen Mab might hold upon her palm. The history of that famous inn exists in little. bethought him of paying a visit to Eastat the
creep too far into a new cenUnfortunately. Quickly. but of a certainty it was burned in the Great
Fire of 1666. When it was built no chronicle relates.
Irvung. sought out by Goldsmith. in the naifve and delightful belief that he was sitting beneath the original roof -tree. then
cheap. in delectably humorous Eng-
the story of his attendant search for the old Boar's Head Tavern.
Its successor of
of princely jest
and and he afterwards
down.THE QUEST OF A CUP
beginning of our cenbrowsing on the Parnassus grass of England. the old Boar stood
of progress. who dreamed there of Mrs.
in the very
which was sometimes honored by
. and then swept away altogether in 183 1." minimized. the site of his
former glory is indicated in one meagre line from Baedeker.
THE QUEST OF A CUP
ement was first absorbed by shops." he says. "
in the very
by a pleasant fire. "at the point where King William Street. Eastcheap.
" Here. room where old Sir John
Falstaff cracked his jokes. and send some colossal eulogy of
back into our empty day ? Goldsmith's vision in the tavern rebuilt after the fire deserves remembrance as one of those performances wherein the greatness of the dramatis personcs does away with the necessity
for correct scene-setting. and Cannon Street converge on a site once occupied by Falstaffs To be thus Boar's Head Tavern. Now. Gracechurch Street. which incidentally informs the expectant tourist that he
will find the
William IV.sharp gibe from his limbo. thus dragged in under the
inheritor of crowns. to make way for the approaches to New London Bridge.
not enough to make fat Jack flash out a lightning ..
BY OAK AND THORN
lowed another good joke. He insensibly beoperate by degrees. His cravat seemed quilted into a ruff. his conversation wine and his however. . and the best joke of all was generally begun towards I found at last. and none now remained with me but the landlord. and sometimes polluted by his immortal merry companions. I sat and ruminated on the follies of youth. My companions had all stolen off. From him I could have wished to know the history of a tavern that had such a
long succession of customers. gan to alter his appearance. wished to be young again. and his breeches swelled out into a farthingale. and tell a tedious story. but was resolved to
the best of
and now and then compared past
. watchman had gone twelve. and though he said nothing. One good joke folyet was not silent. But my landlord could give me no information. He continued to doze and sot.
The and present times together. the end of a bottle. I could not help thinking that an account of this kind would be a pleasing contrast of the manners of different ages. as most other landlords
the apartment. and the rest of our friends below stairs brave '" and hearty. I imagined my fat landlord actually converted into as fat a landlady. and like Mrs.
made but few changes in my situaThe tavern. and a fruitful gossip (O that some crafty and unscrupulous listener could have written us down its story !) with a worthy woman.' cried I (for
perfectly well at
first sight)." She it was who suggested that. " My dear Mrs. who was
fairly altered into a
. self-constituted historian of the region. mistress of
this tavern in the days of Sir
the liquor we were drinking seemed converted into sack and sugar.
Quickly. Quickly in being "a poor widow of Eastcheap. However.-"
. but an hour of musing over past mirth.
heartily glad to see you.loving Americans. the pioneer of England . Pistol. I hope
have you left Falstaff.
There was little left for Irving.
tion. Nothing suffered mutation but my host. although he had
the table continued as before.THE QUEST OF A CUP
fancied him changing sexes and eyes began to close in slumber.
Saint Michael's Church. for Saint Michael's lived There near neighbor to Billingsgate. Crooked Lane. perceiving Irving's
. but the inn itself had passed into the hands of the church the revenues of Bacchus thus reverting to the
necessarily failed in
Establishment. however. not only had the back window of the inn looked out upon Saint Michael's churchyard. Irving betook himself there without delay. Countless were the tombs of fishmongers therein. who smote Wat In the little graveTyler at Smithfield. when th? Falstaff. prime jewel of East cheap was lacking. doubtless the successor of that Francis who had the immortal honor of serving Prince Hal and cold comfort all. though of its useful ward. The sexton. the doughty knight. drawer of renown.
Nothing therefore could
natural than that Saint Michael's
should preserve the counterfeit presentBut. no such relic was forthcoming.BY OAK AND THORN
looking upon the find a picture of it at might he tavern. yard adjoining the church stood the tombstone of honest Robert Preston. most intrepid of lord mayors. also were treasured the ashes of William Walworth.
She seemed delighted
with an opportunity to oblige . were deposited its vessels. with them in her hands. at No.
This was the tavern where Saint Michael's vestry held
meetings. proposed a descent upon the Mason's Arms. and reverencing. and no bad
hostesses. smiling and courtesying.
. the vestry had smoked at their stated meetings since time immemorial and which was
. What he saw there. Here. I was told. where the precious vessels of the parish club were deposited.THE QUEST OF A CUP
disappointment. she returned.
Quickly. the spirit of the loving antiquary. as English sextons will. and. with an air of profound importance.
Dame Honey ball was
a likely. "The first she presented me was a japanned iron tobacco-box of gigantic size. out of which. too. plump. imparted to her my errand.
woman. departed. and. 12 Miles Lane. hurrying upstairs to the archives of her house. formerly guarded by the trusty Boar. as
once had held them at the Boar's Head. let Irving
had taken the landlady aside.
and that it was * repaired and beautified by his successor.
or the Knights of the
. at table. the cunning limner had warily inscribed the names of Prince Hal and Falstaff on the bottoms of their chairs. however. John Packard. there should be any mistake.
renowned generals and comillustrated on tobacco-boxes for the benefit of posterity. and before the door was to be seen the whole convivial group. recording
that this box was the gift of Sir Richard
Gore. for the use of the vestry meetings Head Tavern.' Such is a faithful description of this august and venerable relic. I received it with becoming reverence. in full revel pictured with that wonderful fidelity and force with which the
. or used on common occasions. Lest.BY OAK AND THORN
never suffered to be profaned by vulgar hands. and I question whether the learned Scriblerus contemplated his
at the Boar's
shield. 1767. but what was my delight at beholding
on its cover the identical painting of which I was in quest There was dis!
played the outside of the Boar's Head Tavern. Mr. nearly obliterated. " On the inside of the cover was an
and was held. knight.' " The great importance attached to this memento of ancient revelry by modern church-wardens at first puzzled me but there is nothing sharpens the apprehension so much as antiquarian research.
THE QUEST OF A CUP
Round Table the long-sought Sangreal. put in my hands a drinking-cup. who was highly gratified by the interest it excited. being considered very 'an tyke. and he genially
remarks. having been the gift of Francis Wythers. be treasured up with care among the regalia of her domains. that
. " While I was meditating on it with enraptured gaze. with more exultation. in exceeding great value.." There the search rested. so far as Irving was concerned. she told me. of
course. at the close of his paper. or goblet. and was descended from the old It bore the inscription of Boar's Head. for I immediately perceived that this could be no other than the identical
on which Falstaff
loving but faithless
Quickly. Dame Honeyball. as a testiof that solemn contract.
and which would. which also belonged to the vestry.
when. I have liar charm. never for an instant doubted that the goblet which he identified. in the mind imbued with romance.BY OAK AND THORN
he leaves all this as a rich mine to be worked out by future commentators. was actually Mrs. ancient landmarks have been effaced by hurrying feet. intent on that meat which
life. with a faithful gossip. with the precision of genius. Quickly's. " Came a day " (speaking elliptically after the fashion of Aurora Leigh). " of seeing
the tobacco-box and the parcel-gilt gobwhich I have thus brought to light. should fortune take me to England. a pecuFor my own part. still decked in brave raiment of names that dazzle Though the eye and stir the blood. I crossed the Styx of Holborn and Cheapside to that land still peopled by illustrious ghosts.
despair. and almost as fruitful of voluminous dissertations and disputes as the shield of Achilles or the far-famed Portland Vase. and that goblet I had long resolved to seek.
." he adds. let the subject of future engravings. on the top of an omnibus." The story of his pilgrimage has.
that most delightful of antiquaries. and the Tavdressed no Meat
he. Fish Street Hill. "The Cooks dressed other's specialty. Bread Street."
cryes rybbs of befe." continues
now a Flesh-Market
of Butchers." sold
no Wine. and his London Lackpenny has the ring of good
and olden cheer. no taverns then No man interfered with anexisted. it was a Lydgate's period city of cooks' shops. Meat and
for Sale. was that of Henrys IV. but. as Lydgate the rhyming monk relates.
dwelling on both sides of the Street
many a pye Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape There was harpe. pype and mynstrebye. and Pudding Lane each stands pointing a sad finger to the merry past when... who in the face of manifold discouragements added riches untold to the treasury of English history. and its tavern a Mecca The very names in the of the mind. and V. and
High revelry was held in Eastcheap in the time of Henry IV.
. according to Stow.
THE QUEST OF A CUP
chanted ground. there
.. neighborhood are redolent of good cheer.
. or fryed Fish. fit for Rich and Poor. but to the
Cooks. strip of land immediately south. and between Eastcheap and the river. Flesh. upon the River side. and at a reasonable rate. thus quoted by Stow " In London.
flesh. of old time. when Friends did meet. and not willing to tarry till the Meat be bought and dressed while the Servant bringeth Water for
. where they called for Meat what they liked. Men might have Meat. and wine were
Of that brought to the bank's side. and were disposed to be merry.
highway of London. roast. a twelfthcentury folio has suggestive mention. " If any come suddenly to any Citizen from afar. weary. and such other as sold For Victuals ready dressed of all sorts. for the Season of the Year. Fowls. they went not to dine and sup in Taverns (for they dressed not Meats to be sold).
.BY OAK AND THORN
Cooks mixed amongst
the Butchers. and the Wine to be sold in Taverns. is a common Cookery or Cooks Row where daily.
." Eastcheap in fact was very near the
river. between the Wine in Ships. sod. which they always found ready dressed.
What Multitude soever." What other part of London could Falstaff possibly have chosen for his haunts Even in the old play of Henry Fifth which preceded Shakespeare's. as Part of a City. may be satisfied with as delicate Dishes there.
according to their Pleasures. And they which delight in Delicateness. he shall have immediately (from the River side) all Viands whatsoever he desireth. is the Office of Cooks. " You know the old tavern in Eastcheap
. Near by stood Prince Hal's own mansion of Cold Harbour. And this Cooks Row is very necessary to the City And according to Plato and Gorgias. as may be found elsewhere. " twenty casks and one pipe of red wine of Gascoigne. and fetcheth Bread. Next to Physick. the cellars enriched with his father's gift.!
THE QUEST OF A CUP
his Master's Hands. whatsoever Hour. an episode which may have served as the germ in Shakespeare's brain whence blossomed such a robust tree of mirth. the Prince declares. free of duty. moreover. Day or Night. may refresh themselves." It was in Eastcheap. do come to the City. either of Soldiers or Strangers.-'
. that Prince Hal's two brothers fell out with the watch.
the ideal is
sweep aside the day. and smells are ancient and
fishlike.BY OAK AND THORN
there is good wine. tavern reckoning in pocket. and minutes capons. He will stand lost in dreaming while traffic surges past.
'faith." the very ground whereon he treads.
If. and counterfeit a moment's life.
. as "gunpowder Percy" should have done to fright him. of "the City." Here stood the chair which made his state. when he dared personate his sovereign this cushion was his crown.
needs no bush of modern
lover of Shakespeare and of his
conscious of an excited de-
light in threading these
worshipful. a pleasing eye." Let Falstaff rise.
happily. and here behind the arras did he
ern's tusked sign. and by force of fancy reconstruct that house where "hours were cups of sack. and a corpulent of a cheerful look. Then
solid earth. entering
beneath the tav." Thus is this roistering region so famous in contemporary
. and a most noble carriage.
Ulysses formed one of a " personally conducted " expedition. Happy is he who takes a roundabout way to Elysium.
Remembrance throngs upon
are fain to cry
us. who saw the house almost daily.THE QUEST OF A CUP
snore. and here was his heart struck
cold with pathetic reminder of his end.
Here was discussed that merry Gadshill.
Here must he have heard the chimes at midnight. William Shakespeare. must often have sought its hospitable door for his cup of sack and his merry jest with mine host. a bankrupt world might well have
. When Lessing confessed that for him the search after truth was to be preferred to the goddess herself. on his way to Blackfriars playhouse. and so is pleasantly entertained There is no comparison upon the road for blessedness between his lot and that
of the victim of accurate charts
plump Jack and banish
Last and most lustrous memory of all. and this is the room
telling. he proved the depth of his true wisdom. in the
ing can find in Cook's circular mention of the Lotophagi.
. would have concluded that there was nothing left to attain. forever memorable from having held its vestry meetings under the sign of the Boar's
. and near by lay Crooked Lane. who sought Eastcheap one golden day had devoted an hour's study to their problem in the British Museum.
King William's Monument was
found. custodian of box and goblet. we expected. and to visit Saint Michael's Church. or Circe ? Yet the Wily One came upon them because he sacrificed
not on the altar of accurate and abomIf the two Americans inable science." the Cyclops. "who for their onlynourishment eat flowers. they would have wandered less widely in pursuit of their desire nay.
.BY OAK AND THORN
. though the tavern had been swept away. to lay a finger upon the link forged by Irving with the past to look upon the Mason's Arms. Nausicaa.* " With the simplicity of ignorance. and thus confined themselves to the region of narrow experience reserved for those who let " I dare not wait upon * I would.
" though. tower and all might magically rise. An appeal to policemen and dusty looking idlers who played the r61e of oldest inhabitant bore no consoling fruit. as
generous curve had been cut short at
thereof. church. as if perchance. we were urged to consider the fair proportions of those newer streets born to crowd it out of
street." at length whis-
pered Hope " the Mason's Arms may still have such store of compensation
offered Irving in his quest
Therefore we turned our steps in the There might the heart be warmed by the descendants
direction of Miles Lane. " But be not daunted.
that certainty had settled cold upon the
the dingy beseechingly about. Saint Michael's Church was gone one and another declared that it had not been there in his day and when we querulously disputed the wisdom of its removal.
also evident that Saint
Michael's Church had in that lamentable doing been swept away.
THE QUEST OF A CUP
speedily realized. staring
we walked up and down
or even Master Honeyball himself. save upon Irving's rescuing page.
Bales of goods are the way.venders and bearers of burdens. by the hope that he may presently come upon Dame Honeyball. Irving's
. Covering its former ground stands a glaringly modern and commonplace " public.
doorway. and cabbies were that day tending for a pot of beer. hoisted over the head of the timorous
traveler." whither business men. Such hardships of
progress are of
to one inspired
little moment. however. who.BY OAK AND THORN
Master Edward Honeyball. and persuading him that her wine needs no bush. takes
the middle of the street. his century brimmed over and
unfinished. there to
be jostled by unsavory fish. over-
coming the scruples of the hesitant traveler. boys. or even a savory whiff of that
years ago ? alert fancy
mutton which was a-roasting so many Vain delusion of the too
The Mason's Arms lives no longer.
he be prudent. May he not catch a
glimpse of the serving-maid with trim ankles. to emerge brushing the foam from appreciative lips.
they might surely be unearthed
by the persistent seeker.
to be found } He was minutes ago. and he might come round again
. And where
was the beadle
in.THE QUEST OF A CUP
Yet though that beery seclusion might be reserved for the tippling male.
Therefore. so said his sympathetic manner.
England soon learns economy of nature. and would undoubtedly be kept
in this parish. to take his pint of beer. and that axiom will com-
him on many a discouraging quest. what
likely spot could there be for
fact or wildfire gossip than the
meeting-ground of a tavern ? The white-aproned "drawer" would fain have told us all we sought. as in the
is lost. wrapped in the armor of an idea. or in a neighboring one. refrain from penetrating therein. but he could
only suggest the beadle as a probable fountain of Eastcheap lore. not for such reason would woman.
able premises being assumed.
that here. in whatever corner of secrecy
forgotten treasures lay
hidden. Anything which Saint Michael's Church had once possessed must still be church
we went to Saint Margaret
in an hour. They have their religiously preserved carvings. over three flights of breakneck and choosing at random a chyrch stairs near by which might divulge hidden information. was forthcoming. is this It all depended ?) upon what he had to do. even after long lingering. and rich in a store of old-time memories.BY OAK AND THORN
(O bibulous beadle.
churches in the heart of the City. and an ascent to his room. The
was finishing his empty benches for. No beadle. and afar off. protested an inner voice. sounds the howl of " Dis" establishment This gentleman was not the rector of Saint Margaret Pattens. their precious organs. indeed that man or woman enters one of them to seek the bread of life. they go quietly their careful service beating on.
. named for the patten-makers who long ago flourished there. like a jeweled timepiece in the clothes of a beggar.
thine hourly custom
. when finally he was ready to
. however. surges about this and its
. but ominous. Some days there were a good many burials.
"//« paide for our dynners on St. and doubtless took all its property with But if we were interested in the it. " Has Archdeacon Grantly frowned it down.THE QUEST OF A CUP
speak with the strangers. he said first. at once."
ed. if not from use. been merged in Saint Magnus's.-•
ing habit of fingering your imaginary violoncello " one refrained with diffi-
from asking. to broach some scheme of advancement in which your cleanly soul will not conculty
pily proved. of the sixteenth century.
held. its leather covers worn rough by time. as it hapthe key to difficulty the Saint Michael's parish had. and is he at this moment waiting for you at home." " Have you given up that old and lov.
lope's gentle "
He was TrolWarden. proving that it found the tavern a comfortable neighbor ? From an old oaken chest
he drew a volume. its pages yellowed and stained by years.
was who suggested that the was not a sacramental
Boar's Head. should
not also like to
see an entry in Saint Margaret's vestry accounts.
Such cups were known as " masers. and ornamented with silver and gold.
." and might be either of metal or of wood.BY OAK AND THORN
by the vestry which had also a convivial character.
"a great cuppe. Old customs were his delight. The Warden would not hear of thanks. and building had not smothered God's earth. that one child had to be let down from a window into a closed court. such as great masers
These vessels. but rather one used
in its business meetings."
loving-cups. and of all the phantasms of this changing world they best rewarded pursuit. to touch with his wand a separating point. He had even revived in his own church the ancient ceremony of " beating the bounds. But O times and
brode and deepe. carved. he protested." The children of the parish marched out in due form and beat with wands the parish boundaries but so changed had
the region become since the days
such geography lessons were of ordinary occurrence. An allusion of the sixteenth century to another
cup. true were highly valued by the fortunate owners. whether individuals or corporations.
With that day and the farewell courtesies of the gentle Warden ended our quest. Thus it happened that it was only a few days before sailing for
it was undergoing and was therefore in no condition for visitors. and now sojourning with Saint Magnus.THE QUEST OF A CUP
that ye have changed
in the fact that
whereas such occasions
served of old as pretext for reveHng. There. for an
" fair parish church of Saint
elicited the fact that
repair. and good
Queen Bess. to-day but one friendly baker regaled
the beaters with buns and lemonade. with bear-baitings.
to rehearse his fame.
. new plays on Bankside. mouth-filling oaths. It even hung fire over the summer. lies a small patch of green.
and caught at once from the window a sight more to be desired than the freedom of the city in a box of gold. its one ornament the Purbeck stone once in Saint Michael's churchyard to tell the virtues of Robert Preston. hemmed in by walls. are the cakes and ale whereon they feasted once from door to door? Gone.
Truly. We must even try his organ.
have the like dependence. took care to Had sundry virtues that excused his
You that on Bacchus
Pray copy Bob
his pots. and the other the identical tobacco-box of the same. yet different Irving's quest.BY OAK AND THORN
. and the tablet to Miles Coverdale. wherein the godly and learned do much delight.
to justice thou'rt inclined.
daily in thy mind. redolent of memories ancient and wonderful.
. and proffered many a fillip to the appetite before he would produce the nightingales' tongues and ortolans of the feast. We must see his church. But at length returned to the vestry room. and every one beside. Though reared among full hogsheads. it is good to touch with reverent finger each link of a golden past to renew our fondness for the motherland by thumbing over the pages of her story The rector of Saint Magnus dallied with
Keep honest Preston
He drew good wine. to give the toping world surprise. measure and attendance. and here he lies. he defy'd The charms of wine. Produced one sober son. one of wood. there appeared a sexton. penetrated to the soul with the importance of every detail connected with the Establishment and in his hands he bore two boxes.
the fresh glory of paint probably 1861. Quickly would even the daring scion of an aggressive land approach a reverend incumbent of the English Church with a mention of that amiable but never con. and
seclusion. in a green baize
was opened. lay the goblet of our dreams.
woman. No one who
has seen that cup can doubt for a moment that it certainly is the one illuminated by the sea-coal fire that day
THE QUEST OF A CUP
The moment had come. Now be it understood that there had been throughout little talk of the goblet. hoping that box and goblet had drifted down the stream of years still together. painful antithesis to the matron ? Perish the thought Rather wait. It was impossible to refer honestly to the former treasure in any way except and as a memento of Mrs. and triumphantly it crowned endeavor. as the inscription
it was then repaired anew. for.
befitting the occasion the
With a slow seriousness wooden box
there. but much of this box from which the churchwardens once filled their innocent pipes. and that the same incoming wave would sweep them to the travfeet.
was in the first part of this century "very antyke. the earliest date be assigned King Henry IV. and it is easy to believe it formed a part of the church
property before 1597. with a standard
and a generous bowl. Wythers Armigeri.' " What is more probable than that William Shakespeare. The cup.
There is an actual possibility connected with this relic which is hardly to be considered without excitement. what time the cup went round and beards
ever held in high esteem. and almost loses its balance in a mad chase after the thistleto
of circumstantial proof. That possibility once assumed. was a welcome guest of Saint Michael's vestry." and the silver extedecorated with fanciful little figures in outline. shaped somewhat like Prince Rupert drops. About the foot
runs the inscription. It is lined with gold. the mind runs riot in conjecture. in his social evenings at the tavern where it was kept.
. whenever it was first received. "parcel-gilt.
It is of a
goodly shape.BY OAK AND THORN
Falstaff swore his perishable oath. we are told.
Even so small a matter as paying for the inscription.?
disappointed. which keeps in hiding the record of his life.?
lem. Waring ? " is no more crucial prob. marriages. a family adorned by George Wither. the poet. married. waiting for a lucky finder.THE QUEST OF A CUP
" unhousel'd. holds no Did he belong to some other parish. ingenious mind will suggest that there may be some mention of goblet or giver in Saint Michael's audit books. that prince whose lot it is to succeed after the many fail. or where did he die ? list of tombstones and tablets from
Saint Michael's contains not his name. would surely
anel'd". and of whose founder mention is made in the
strange mingling of
" What 's become Edward II.
register of christenings.
to avoid a
the poetical and such a quest. or did he go to the wars with Falstaff. than that con-
nected with this elusive donor of a cup. Was he one of the Lancashire Withers.
beginning in 1538. no blinder scent.
burials. to receive
reference to him. if that were not done until after the presentation.
He of life lie its paramount charms." Shakespeare dearly loved to harness every-day events to the car of poesy to fit a cart-horse out with wings. which are of some
interest. is a happy man. who can bare his head in memory of King Arthur at each of the several places claiming the crown of Camelot. gifted with the truest
. however. who sees in every thorn-tree at Glastonbury a scion of the olden one. contain two references to the Boar's Head. When
. like every trifle
met the eye
that the cup has
Vain hope The earlibook is dated 1617. and bid him godspeed in playing Pegasus.BY OAK AND THORN
be mentioned. and people the land with brave men and fair women who.
for one. as the learned tell us. were never more than "such stuff as dreams are made on. I shall never allow
the true delight of literary pilgrimage to be spoiled by too close adherence to In the ideal suppositions possible fact. and has nothing to say on the subject. and was even touched by his good right hand.
spot. It does.
there can be no doubt that the poet had in mind the year 1 594. since he is no lion.
when "the spring was very unkind. Our July hath been like to a Februour June even as an April so that the air must needs be infected."
Harry Goldingham was Arion upon the Dolphin's backe but finding his voice to be verye hoarse and unpleasant when he came to perform it.
has its prototype in an incident. and swears he was none of Arion. which is recorded in a collection entitled Merry Passages and Jests "There was a spectacle presented to Queen Elizabeth upon the water.
and her siren
arts.THE QUEST OF A CUP
Titania describes a strange confusion of the seasons. and the resulting evils to man and beast. and
are. by means of the abundance of rain that fell. wherein he entreats the ladies not to tremble. not he." That immortal speech of Bottom. probably of Shakespeare's own time. but even honest Harry Goldingham. he tears off his disguise.
of Scots the dancing horse into
celebrated wonder of the poet's
Face-painting. but "a man as other men
a custard to
fit only to Head. resolved to live a fool the rest
dull life. though it be but the infinitely removed descendants of the daisies
that bloomed at Stratford three centuries
ago. pregnant with wondrous meaning. but to us. cold under the long shadows of too late a day.
to have found
one vivifrom that high feast
when every man
"put his whole wit in a jest. For to have looked upon what Shakespeare saw. who became stage favorites. the " little eyases " of Saint Paul's Cathedral. to be strongly and somewhat jealously censured by dozens of contemlegitimate players. to have
held what his hand
once touched.BY OAK AND THORN
the popular mirth.
porary allusions illustrate his royal and prodigal way of sweeping up the dust from the path of every-day life and using
"parcel-gilt goblet at the Boar's
a careless mention."
." cause a passing smile on such lips as had merrily touched its brim.
little guessgraver matters occupied my thoughts.
thirty spires insistently call
— an army
will perforce dismiss
fighting that "long hour
though with a reverent mind."
AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
Warwickshire pilgrimage was Coventry (I refrain with some difficulty from
the qualifying "three-spired. as
it marched hereby where the immortal
Hotspur." since the guide-books have made it all their own). but serving-men. for my mind was busy painting itself a picture of Falstaff's
and here an ancient dame. younger
. insisted on stopping us in the street. and pointing out the head of Peeping Tom. and consider
not architecture. " Go to. thou 'rt naught I could have said. unjust
Now for my own part."
strong temptation to draw
forbidden ways. in sober and practical fashion.. and a long peace
. a wandering life has many secondary joys in fee. an army which needed not the outfit of shirts.
." and marked " so as nobody ever saw that it would take a such marking.. a hundred and fifty lately come from
gals. it could "find linen enough on every hedge. since. like Autolycus of blessed memory. and I
.. let me whisper. in
woven by Mrs. and presently." Moreover.
from eating draff and husks. I do so heartily agree with her relatives and
friends in their distaste for the prying
into their gardens into of the table-cloths
their very linen-chests.
ver herself "and bleached so beautiful.
BY OAK AND THORN
sons to younger brothers." But not always may you stay to hobnob with fat Jack. we engaged
a carriage to take us
spots of George
Warwickshire sojourn. good time.
me into such (The temptation came. revolted tapand ostlers tradefallen the cankers of a calm world.
they not so have nourished and calmed that great spirit that it could thereafter express itself from a state of serene healthfulness only to be attained in fitful moods by one suffocated in mining damps and glooms.century of her youth was
great sky-spaces and far horizon
. and then to drive on to Griff House.
. reputed poacher. in tracing the steps of this womangenius. the hedges. Think of the country about Stratford and its influence on the mind of Master Will Shakespeare. or at Rosehill. and lover the fruitful earth of Anne Hathaway.
lavish of bloom. and was glad !) But an ever-growing delight to me to look on the same tract of earth and the very outline of tree and roof which once fed the gaze of heroes. it was enough to look at the outside of the Coventry School where she was a shy and earnest student. the still-flowing streams. where almost a quarter . happy scene of her friendship with the Brays. without in the least desiring entrance. or depressed by the gray wastes of Lincolnshire? And so.
and ever responsive
leafage.AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
the tale of
toil. and makes his home an
outer paradise. so that the thoughtless
glad for him. and fancies
the poetic content of days spent in his picturesque (and mildewed) thatched cotBut here the harder phases of tage.. John. living make themselves rudely apparent. The earth is harder and more unyielding than at flowery Stratford. a most serious man who talked as if he
might have been an intimate acquaint176
In sweet farming regions
baptized in his
man may be
and made drunk by his own tears. Warwickshire displays a thoughtful and sober face.
BY OAK AND THORN
During the progress of the road from Coventry to Nuneaton. and who can doubt that George Eliot read from them her first gospel of the
Now. our driver that day. Coal dust has here and there begrimed it and at intervals a bare and ugly chimney
upward a sooty finger in derisive challenge to the "whip of the skies. No longer does it smile unreservedly. one reads here the doom and history."
At a glance. but the gracious and deceitful earth only smiles the more.
we were not of that mould. and it was only after repeated urgings from the box that we alighted. should he ever bring such har. was impressed with a wholesome fear of Mr. "
"All hail to thee brother of the
we ejaculated mentally. woman.
John. miss. like a monster made out of Paul Pry and Peeping Tom Though American.
again. And there temptation laid for our feet its first cobweb snare. don't go into the house Go into the house. George Eliot's brother. a very decent serving-woman. this gentleman had suffered much from the settling of tourists upon his roof-tree.!
AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
ance of the Great Lexicographer.
House. " Not " for worlds would we invade thy peace " You can walk inside the grounds. Isaac Evans.
for a sensible
man. According to him. and like cats in a cream-rich pantry. took a few cautious steps into the trim door-yard in front of the comfortable brick house."
up before Griff won't mind that. But " please. very like
the plagues of ancient Egypt and we could imagine that he had threatened our conscientious John with dire vengeance.
destined to develop into an Oldest Inhabitant. " She was n't born here. drove on to Chilvers Coton. we had wept in the wrong place. We emotions.
dull. moreover. adding that
.) And thereupon he waxed so emphatic. that we knew not what to think. the Shepperton of the " Scenes from Clerical
Life. and. perplexed and depressed. he looked so like a local oracle. (For."
apologized for our pres-
we were from over-sea. and. Baedeker had that day been left behind. and that we could not resist looking upon the spot where George Eliot was born. and exchange of civilities we
carriage and. to our shame be it confessed. and memory proved
but a yielding staff. "she was born at Arbury Farm. taxed
had wasted our and applauded
after a further
returned to the
John with having made a mistake. though she did
ence.BY OAK AND THORN
came walking down the
path." said this sympathetic and kindly soul. declaring that everybody knew Griff House to be the birthplace of Mary Ann Evans."
This was a blow.
wish to see Milly's grave " So in a half-dream we entered the little homely structure. rosy maid
appeared at the door.. old-fashioned vicarage." The building ugly district
. the galleries delightful. .
flat. by smuggling bread and butter into the sacred edifice.
not a place to
indeed." The improvements she once deplored as having marred the picture retained by her childish memory have yet left the church very quaint and characteristic the pews are old-fashioned.
AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
workaday Nuneaton. trim. and took the words from our mouths. and walked into the very pew where Mary Ann Evans used to sit.
invite the eye. as she confesses. " my nurse found it necessary to provide for the reenforcement of my devotional patience. It is easy to feel in that atmosphere as if one were within
. miss." and the little commonplace church is close neighbor to a crowded yard of " the happy dead people.
depressing enough to look at even on the brightest days.
. in those years when. "The key. miss And perhaps you Yes.
was locked. and thereupon we besieged
. to ask for the key.
and whose sad fortunes were mirrored in those of Milly Barton. touched and saddened. lies the grave of Emma Gwyther.
question. like a persistent insect. for he
. and with the world-old result. where. new version of Launcelot Gobbo's immortal dialogue between conscience and the fiend was again enacted. came buzzing back the forgotten
and abided the event. We left the spot. wherever
Mary Ann Evans was
least read here one chapter of her thoughtful. I think John must have suspected us of contemplating some deed of darkness. " Marry. who died at thirty-four. Thereupon. as one who has looked on some most sacred relic of the
past. but that the spirit of investigation forbade ingloriAnd then it was that a ous defeat. surrounded by a high railing and weighted with a heavy tombstone. " Run " cried the fiend in conclusion.-'
that it made any difference. and we said to our
driver. since she once walked among us. image-storing childhood. where
was she born
BY OAK AND THORN
a very few layers of the heart of country life. Then out into the churchyard again.
and we threw ourselves on her mercy. and walking up to the teeth of the enemy. decent serving . as one might over the vagaries of uneasy Americans. and. She was soon back again. But prudence had been quite abandoned with decorum. miss.woman. as if it made very little difference. hastened up the stairs. would she tell us her grounds for saying that Mary Ann Evans was not born here } She smiled.
fly. after a word of apology. to Coventry.AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
in his turn resolute of countenance. inclined to spend their nervous energy in fighting windmills and hunting lions. '* Miss Evans says you may walk in the garden. we knocked for admittance at the door of
Then appeared again the Griff House. leaving us in
the lurch. if you like. this time bearing a message.
should Mr." (Poor Miss Evans should we take this as the spontaneous impulse of a kindly heart. But in the midst of it she stopped to listen. or was it a sop thrown to un!
. We were tossed about by winds of doctrine.
he had made up
hot-foot. Evans charge upon the
besiegers. evidently to a call from within. and yet indulgently.
if. and repeated her tale.
quiet English land-agent. clad in gray. was Tom Tulliver. " There is Mr. yet not of wide vision and ever conscious of his
infallibility.chamber ?) At all events. with our gentle-mannered guide. For she suddenly exclaimed. be it recorded that we chose the latter and ignoble course. Evans himself You can ask him where she was born " and fled. I confess that when I fell into talk with
barbarians. indomitable of will.mower.
. powerful man." for it was borne in upon me that here. "that he not only thought so. and pushing a lawn . Now. stanch. or brazenly advance to our everlasting discredit. in the flesh.
once said a clever woman. leaving us in the presence of a tall.
the worst of
is. it was from a mood as uplifted and delirious as that of one who should " see Shelley plain. in an undertone. and there it was that an exciting and terrible event befell. There was nothing for us to do but flee also.BY OAK AND THORN
whom she expected her bed . but betook ourselves. we stayed not to question motives. to a fascinating old-fashioned garden at the back of the house.
My doll seemed
reason. who moment of
" But were another childhood-world
when my brother came.
would poison the very This was he
there. as Tom had ever the power of doing in his intercourse with Maggie. and learned thereby how "luck is with glory wed." It was Tom who was separated from her by that awful soul-distance brought about by " the dire years " who perchance condemned where he could not understand.
Tulliver. and whose
disapproval. and drew from her at length the home-sick cry.") This was the man with whose being George Eliot's own was knit during the most plastic period of her life."
Tom. who could admit her to the highest heaven of happiness.
fountain of her content. even over so small a matter as the
.AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
but according to recognized standards Tom always was right. she caught a big fish. in a still and happy dreaming.
" She was born at Arbury Farm. in his ponderous
" She /wed here. to recall her utterances. how he tried so vainly." he said. she
was not born here."
when she was but
And which was her window ? Where " her room } " Why. she was everywhere about the house." was evident that the George Eliot of universal fame was less to him " than the little sister whose " tiny shoe he had guide4 over the stepping-stones.BY OAK AND THORN
yet kindly gray eyes and a slow sad and oh. wonder with George voice. or mayhap the inner world. in his waking moments.
phrasing exactly as it left his lips. Do you remember when sweet Mary Seraskier came
back to Peter Ibbetson from the outer. so many years agone. and
old. and put them into the language of every-day thought and speech ? Thus it happened when I I meant. but I can only repeat it now.
own Dante nose. for talked with Tom Tulliver." he answered. " No. hopelessly Americanized. He was half
"And you've been to the church."*" he asked. she dwelt "a little sister" ?)
Needless to say that we did not
afraid of outstaying his tolerance. they 've altered it he asked. You may see the pew where she used to sit.
"It's a long way. "Tell them I sent you. and not the girl or Did she know. she being dead. his reserve seemed to break up. in the home of his mind.
You came from America ? " he asked."
tried to tell
him how we had
sought Shakespeare's home.
then. after full directions for finding it.?" " Ah. adding. half perplexed that we should be thus moved over the traces of their vanished youth. as if." We left him in his garden and wan185
." (Still dreaming over the child. and was it an woman
abiding joy that ever.!
AN UNRESISTED TEMPTATION
touched. he would thank the humblest soul for having loved her.
"And you will go to Arbury Farm. but in those days its walls were so high that she had to stand up on the seat to see the singers. inevitably to make this the second step in our pilgrimage of praise and worship.
where little Maggie lightheartedly trudged about.
first. but we had seen him who was so responsible for a vast part of its emotional stress. This was the apex of human experience.BY OAK AND THORN
dered at will for a moment." and had earned thereby the condemnation pronounced upon such from of old by the courteous and the gentle. casting unseeing eyes at the farm buildings and populous yard.
possibly worse than the
peat our deed. Yet there was.
for the master of Griff
dead. grown to man's estate. and
our patient host.
. so far as our present quest was not only could we imagine concerned the outer life of the fine spirit forever vanished. so
nothing more so than the true presentment of Tom. a bitter drop in that jeweled cup we had behaved like the traditional American whose gospel is " Push.
. lest other intrusive spirits. One grace only was left in us we kept our
. But time and fate between them have taken the seal from
lips. or brooded over the "bitter sorrows of childhood. .
so faithful. and is to-day.
if only the hunter be just credulous
cling to his
. recognize the probable futility of such doggedness. Knutsford." No more satisfying occupation can be in-
vented in this ancient world than the pursuit of what does not absolutely exist.
the eccentric dower of some to as hot-headed and tremulous over a prospective needle in a haymow as ever Midas could have been on
offers shall seek all day ere you and when you have them.
a perfect huntingground for that sort of plunder so humorously resembling Gratiano's reaCheshire.
For to reconstruct a habitation on the base of some foregone romance is to strike a balance between special disappointment and a vague general joy.
with a dauntless zeal
guesswork the same time
bold in belief. they are not worth the search."
the little Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson. of the family repre-
sented now by Lord Knutsford. and the simple facts of her life offer little temptation to
real. where she remained until marriage took her to per188
. ters with links of similitude
. under lilies of the valley and the constant evergreen. Mrs. Gaskell was a child.
gossip-mongers. storing up fragmentary impressions easily retraced by one who has lived even a full day in the town here she was married. at Knutsford. The prospect of figuring in biography was never quite to her taste. at least. and it was after her mother's death that she was sent to live with Mrs. and in the green and pleasant yard of the old Unitarian Chapel she lies. is emphatically not the Cranford of Mrs. Her mother Holland. but it glitmoreover. in toto. Lurab. with her husband.BY OAK AND THORN
The present Knutsford. memories.
quaintness all its own is continually stimulating the mind to comparison between the fancied and
living perfumes summon Here. a widowed aunt. Little Elizabeth was born at Chelsea in 1810. Gaskell's homely chronicle.
Great herds of cows idle about.
. The region skirting Knutsford on every hand is rich in memories. fiction taught the rich some of those trenchant lessons known at first-hand only by the poor but another deed. Who could aspire to uncover its living presentment ? One might as well hope. and one can guess at
her own gracious influence among that slowly growing sect.LATTER-DAY CRANFORD
manent residence in Manchester. but. a power as moving as in literature and the practical walks It is an old story that her of trade. given over to that industry which is no more than a drowsy day-dream cropping and chewing.
country. a book to be loved so long as there are smiles and tears in this April world. diversified by great estates and
happy in fat farmlands. smiling to the eye. it offers a loving welcome It is a placid. better still. some fortunate London hour. to stumble on Queen Bess setting forth in state to bull-baiting or the play. shall be remembered of her. Both her husband and her father were Unitarian clergymen. more golden yet.
transmuting the riches of the
. the creation of Cranford. and
and pleasing. both menspot." and on the strength of it we may undoubtedly assume that. It is presided over by two precise and respectable inns. where we made brief halt to glance at the Unitarian Chapel. and we reached Knutsford on the eve of a festival calculated to rend dear Miss Matty
circle of this
abounding prosperity lies town (ford of the great Canute. the strings of trade here are
held by women that it is still approximately. with reason). is. with individand passages covered by the dust of years.BY OAK AND THORN
sod into such milk and cheese as need Within the only naming for praise. in
'vulgar. the old preaching-ground of the Rev-
erend William Gaskell. as in Cranford days. even in our present year of grace. "to be a man" "to be this delectable place. some say." things could be more pleasing to us who
would have time "stand still withal. irregular
So in Cranford.'"
course thither lay through Man-
chester (Drumble). "in posNo state of session of the Amazons. and dehghting in their burial.
miss. afternoon had been set apart for
celebration. explaining " It 's so very. I 'm
and landladies who on any other day would have curtsied profoundly in Shenstonian welcome. but to-morrow I shall be so busy and I could hardly give you the attention I should wish.. miss.
choosing. At that modest
with that ingratiating
end of the sentence so commendable on an English tongue. The very air was tinged with the aroma of hot cakes.
and Knutsford was
already the scene of a wild saturnalia. And so perforce we went to an inn. miss.. It had lost its head in anticipatory
delirium. very awkward. or the rogues and vagabonds of a later interdict.
with deeper doubts than such as embither first half .
was baking and brewing
probable influx of visitors by excursion train. I 'm very sorry.
one under the firm and affable two ladies. but you see how it is. actually held their door-stone against us as though we were marauding Scots.hour at Signor For the next Brunoni's exhibition. in deference to Cranford prejudice.
" Red-and-gold gondolas.
holding to the handles with desperate grip. the lassies curled their dangling feet decently beneath their skirts.BY OAK AND THORN
choice. but his course of action will Especially in the case of be plain.
henceforth be augmented by the man who classifies the soul according to the bodily contortions induced by an aerial I know not what he should railway. went trundling through space like gibbeted criminals taking to the sky.
he pronounce an for some among unerring judgment. some let
them fly amain others swayed like willow wands but the many swept on their
. a magic circle.
. All that evening the delirium of hope and expectation continued. were gayly sliding about in a lurid Venice. strange aerial railway consisted of one strong wire high in air little wheels with handles on either side were arranged to fit it. and Darby or Joan. cannily set upon springs.
. Swings had been erected on the large open space still known as " the Heath. Jamieson would have been the better pleased. be called. the Honorable Mrs. said we.
one strange likeness
In all they
took their pleasure "sadly," as became No face relaxed not a true Britons. feature gave way to emotion lighter than a rigid determination to reach the With the onlookers, the same goal. seriousness prevailed, so that when the transatlantic observer gave way to hysterics of mirth, she was regarded, not frowningly, but with a solemn compassion which was in itself hopelessly And over all the din of deupsetting. corous joy amid which the Knutsford youth thus disported itself arose the voice of china -venders and toy -merchants, the cry of those who would fain cloy their countrymen with gruesome lollipop and other sweets, made only to be shunned. Miss Deborah could never have approved We tried to cloak our delight under a decent thoughtfulness, I think we and went home to bed. should even have read a counter-irritating chapter of Rasselas had that very eminent work been at hand. Next day, Knutsford dissolved in rain, and the bakeries may well have wept
crowd of excursionists to race
BY OAK AND THORN
like an invading flood, which must surely inundate the humblest eating-houses They sank beneath their sweets, like Tarpeia under her bribe, and the cardboard legend of "Tea" at every door fell into pulp and sadness. We too had hoped for a sunny May-day but, being mortal, we could not refrain from an acrid reflection that many a landlady must now be
repenting her short-sighted refusal of us. Last night we were minnows, for there were other fish in the sea. To-day we loomed as the leviathan, and we bore ourselves proudly.
Only a few optimistic
the spirit to sand the sidewalk in front of their houses, an ancient
custom once accompanying Knutsford weddings, and still employed on days of high festival. Still, no one exerted his genius to the utmost for though the sand had been applied in patterns, they were quite simple, suggesting none of that elaboration and originality of design in which Knutsford can indulge when she chooses. But though the rain could bully her into curbing her handiwork, it could not dampen her poetic ardor.
the street, from one sandless sidewalk to the other, swept a banner, and this was the proud legend there-
« All hail
All hail thee,
our universal holiday "
melancholy dryness, flecked by uncertain gleams of sun, succeeded the forenoon, and we betook ourselves, with an unadulterated joy, to the Heath,
sat, chilled and happy, on the grand stand, watching the festival, and reconstructing the play-day of Old England from the too sophisticated pleasThis was May-day ures of the New. decked out in modern fripperies for the public entertainment, but it was not impossible to spy, beneath its landings,
the simpler sports of a long-past time. The procession was an historical pageant
Here walked Sir WalLord Nelson, the Duke of Wellington, Dick Whittington, and Robin Hood, none of them over four
of high degree.
high. Jack-in-the-Green danced, bear -wise, under an inverted cone of the morris - dancers (lithe, hemlock bonny youths, dressed in blue velvet kneebreeches, white shirts, plaid sashes,
BY OAK AND THORN
of a vivid pink seldom seen outside a lozenge jar) wove a simple rhythm of movement entrancing to the eye, and the May queen rode in state, a pygmy lady of fashion, clad in white satin, elaborate, frosty, like a weddingcake. But one would fain have seen her in simple white muslin enriched only with posies of her own plucking, gathered with the dew on them while
myself into a ball dress and send for my wired Some bathos comes with bouquet
early," that I
winding throng one obhad power to thrill the mind, an old sedan chair, borne midway in Do you remember it in the procession. Within that the annals of Cranford very chair did Miss Matty sit, tremulous but resolved, after the social evening at
of all that
Mrs. Forrester's, when the dear ladies scared one another into panic with confession of the bogies most to their mind. From its unsafe seclusion did she cry aloud when the men " stopped just where Headingley Causeway branches off from * Darkness Lane Oh pray go on
precious. To watch these puppets tripping it was to give way for a moment to sadness.LATTER-DAY CRANFORD
the matter ? What is the matgive you sixpence more to " go on very fast pray don't stop here.
We give over our great festivals
to children.' Dear relic of a time more real than our Knutsford holds nothing more to-day
nowadays we are ashamed be merry after we have come to man's
given over to
they braided and wove their ribbons round the pole. reprettily.
looking on with
a maddening tickle in the bones that
ache to join them. With another day Knutsford had assumed her wonted air of quiescent decorum. Step and look were no longer the springing welcome to a day when lads and lassies should no more be able to hold their fervor than trees their budding strength. It proved easier to see her now
. but the spontaneous joy of Old and Merrie England was not in them. dancing-master had trained them for the public eye.
The Maypole dance was
a set of decorous
" And. though doubtless when it still remained on the other side of the way) stands the Royal George.
affectionate trait in
this loyal people. but now thrown into selfcontradiction by the swelling adjective assumed after the Princess Victoria and the Duchess of Kent had spent a night
its roof. said Miss Pole. on benevolence intent. But a step from the Angel Hotel (where Lord Mauleverer very wisely took up his quarters. and then in the room
. too. to
weaken' a saint's pat-
ronymic by courtly prefix. she found herself in the passage leading from the inn to the Assembly Room.
BY OAK AND THORN
what she is. and I thought Betty would like to hear how she was.. a Georgian town imbued with the spirit of elegance and precision easy. For. to find Cranford in her every look and word. quite by chance. when nothing more importunate prevented her from strolling up the staircase. once living content under its swinging sign of the saint militant. " my Betty has a second-cousin who is chambermaid there.) Now it was same George which was sought out by Miss Pole on an idle morning. On that morning began our trial of local intelligence and belief.
itself. beautiful old
balustrades. dry. on that bewildering evening." insured against feminine wiles by
a cohort of National
still. It a living example of the actual magnificence which may be wrapped about
was the AssemMiss Matty sighed a little over her departed youth. thin. as if there were a numbly
ber of genteel observers. sat "smiling approval. .
and precious work in brass. This was the room where..
rusty rector. and walked " mincingly.
where Signor Brunoni was mak-
ing his preparations to juggle the wits out of Cranford the very next night. instead of two
boys with a stick of toffy between
them with which to beguile the time. the ladies of Cranford were so astounded by the resources of magic that they began to debate whether they had been in the right " to have come
to see such things. it
boys." and settled down to an unalloyed enjoyment of the evening only on learning that the " tall." To seek it out was like dreaming over a
bit of dear
Miss Matty's shawl or a print
of her turban.
miss " And thither were we led. Owing to that deplorable lack of understanding which is incident to the present of any age. and that night tricked out with masonic regalia. Here Miss Matty took her dainty steps in the viemiets de la coiir.
lovable. swept away }" By no means Did we. dull as a fading
memory. the seeing eye a hundred
scenes of innocent yet decorous revelry.
ancient. with flourish of pride. and conceded nothing to the flight of time or change of ownership.
wish to see that } " A very plain room.
possessions. her young head.BY OAK AND THORN
an inn when it has maintained itself in dignity.
walls. "Is this all?" cried we. to
shabby. aggressively fresh against the background of Cranford legends. through the George to the new Assembly Room. it repose. we were conducted." said
. Something stately lies in its hospitable Like the ladies themselves.
the world without
for the changes falsely
ment. in unhappy " Has the old hall been quite duet. crowned with its soft thick locks
had very pretty
dreaming over the ponderous delight of sitting at home and writing the charges of the archdeacon she was so eminently fitted to
. I fancy she was but an abstracted figure at the balls wishing herself away in a more serious atmosphere.
facing the pedestrian who ascends that way. too.
youth as in age Miss Pole must ever have been the mouthpiece of the world which tattles and denies. pointed out by universal acclaim as the one where. stands a shop. poor Matty. Here she should have worn the muslin from India that came to her too late. but now a free passage leads under the building (somewhat in the fashion of Clovelly's wayward street). and up a slope. Somehow I can never connect Miss Deborah with the Assembly Room.
past the stables. after the downfall of her fordirectly
marry. In the old days. Miss Pole gleaned the fruitful grain of gossip. Miss
Matty sold tea and scattered
Miss Matilda). the George had gates of its own. Here. where. to sow it carefully again
. sinking in shyness superadded to decorum when young Holbrook
to lead her to the dance.
presided over by an ex-
cellent chemist. sir.
. or you could see the little window she used to peep through when she heard a customer. "We are repairing the back room a bit.BY OAK AND THORN
Actual windows and imaginary Miss Mattys were here in droll conjunction. The crucial question was asked. Further questioning elicited a reason strangely alluring from the very emphasis informing the chaos of its terms. the while our purchase was sought. Indeed.
Oh. A tradition lurks in Cranford that he was once sought out by the Unitarian clergyman of the town. on the supposition that he was an adherent of that faith." responded master chemist. miss." was the unhesitating answer. almost an agnostic " Rude. I 'm a Unitarian.
Matty's shop > " we inquired incidentally. a
and an unconscious humor. belligerent word to have penetrated the sacred pale of Cranford We entered the tiny establishment on
ostensible errand. " Yes.
seems that there was in town an gentlewoman. He looked at us wildly. " Have you had time to think " we were always courteously but sadly answered.
Mrs." said we encouragingly to master chemist. "Amen stuck in " his "throat. " of course you know all the
places mentioned in Cranford ? " Oh yes. " No.
The Reverend George A. who chanced to enter the shop after the paper had been torn away."
"Give me time
. miss. the only existing link between old times and new. because she had seen it many a time and recognized it at once. and the next day also." was the
the assertion that this
was Miss Matty's window. disclosing this tiny window and she from her stores
merciful." he rejoined
and. Amorphous logic and fortunate conclusion
"Now. Payne knows
. returning that afternoon. with the query.?
But authorities are not
far to seek.
or to catch at least a glimpse of majestic Mr. inclosed by high. and it requires no impossible stretch of fancy to see Carlo lumbering about the yard. invulnerable walls. where the old Unitarian Chapel still holds its
Henry Green knew
It is a I am glad to think so. moreover.
the other end of the town." and Miss Pole outbid her by six-
pence and induced the men to strike into the less ominous Headingley Causeway. Not far away. while the Cranford dames regard him from without in controlled and impotent wrath. when Miss Matty would fain have had the sedan chair "go on very fast. not far 204
. Jamieson occupied a prosperous-looking house near the lower end of the town. is Darkness Lane. subject of that ever memorable controversy on the night of the panic. Mulliner reading the Saint James's Chronicle. residence eminently fitting for that social
place. and his guesses He sugare both satisfying and clever. gests that the Honorable Mrs. winking at the ladies whom he mulcted of cream.BY OAK AND THORN
Knutsford as the Reverend its historical and archaeological aspect.
and she pictures the little girl running " away from her aunt's house across the Heath. and Deborah's self in juggled a pillow into the semblance of a baby in long clothes. a modest dwellthat yard where ing in a circling yard. Lumb.
was flogged and ran away
sea." hiding "herself in one of its many green hollows.LATTER-DAY CRANFORD
from the gates of Tatton Park. and how the rector came upon him as he paraded himself and his charge before the gaping townsfolk ? The rest of the story is too sad for any but sunny days for Peter
every one knows. still sleeps the old vicarage. and the g^itle house-mother died awaiting her boy's return. poor Peter played his little comedy desWho does not tined to end in grief.
how Peter dressed himit. suggests Mrs. Gaskell's life in Cranford need no broidLooking over the Heath ery of fancy. gown and bonnet. Hers was not an altogether untroubled childhood. stands the comfortable. finding comfort in
. The actual spots connected with Mrs. while the rector repented his angry vengeance in the ashes of old age. dignified house where she lived with Mrs.
There are happy windows.seats. and in the company of birds
and insects and natural things. and golden with buttercups. between fields green with the wonderful grass that goes to the making of Cheshire cheese.
. where lived the Hollands who were Mrs. richer in furze and leaf. An agreeable though unexciting walk leads to it. Such far reaches of field and valley are here as to make a not unpleasing loneliness in the land." that time. approaching the farm. with great window . Gaskell's maternal ancestors. its character of homelike comfort is unchanged. looking out over the Heath and into the garden at
the back. and in the garden beds lie the richness and beauty of old-fashioned
flowers. the Heath was less
trodden village common than to-day.
made to please the with suggestions not to be denied is Sandlebridge Farm. even under full sunlight and when. you come to a smithy and 206
of all spots
.BY OAK AND THORN
the silence. Sun and light are everywhere. more populous with birds. But though the identical house has been enlarged and repaired.
where Mr. sweet and dusty from the breath of grain..
great stone balls are gone beside the gate (the
Lord CUve used
jump from one
. For in the smithy two or three leisurely men lean and look in the intervals of smiling talk. Great wooden beams.
not dispelled. more potent still for Sandlebridge is Cranford's Woodley. a mammoth ridge rising above the hidden caverns where nine hundred and ninety . plash of willing water
trickle of the feeding stream. goes on working quite by itself. and read " my Lord Byrron. heavy
wheels. and from without came the plash. to be living a life of
yet happy activity." and ate his peas happily without the aid of a fork. when a little girl. and dusty hoppers seemed. In the hazy distance loomed Alderley Edge. Thomas Holbrook lived." Mrs.
late. and where Miss Matty came to him too
. must often have visited the farm to play with the Holland children but the spot has another distinction.
mill dedicated to the uses of
life. Gaskell. and the mill. that
day.nine horses stand " ever caparisoned and ready for war.
when he was a schoolboy
and the ancient decointo the
Knutsford).smelling plants that day. With us. listening to his comments on flower and leaf and how she afterwards went with him to the fields. did he walk The sweet .
manor has subsided
well-being of a prosperous farm
but the slumberous peace. too. were such as his eye must have cherished the cropping cattle over the happy slopes were of one family with those he had fostered and the trees. where he forgot her and strode on to the measure of his dearest No beauty of the growing rhymes world had lain afar from his full and lonely life.••
. black-branched and glossy in their green. We
BY OAK AND THORN
to the other.
Do you remember how Mary
walked about the garden with that antique lover who loved no more. and we drank our milk and ate the sweet farm bread with a drowsy sense that somehow dear Miss Matty was with us. with
the stone -flagged
dresser of blue dishes
on the wall and its flitches of bacon hanging from the hooks above. and
perhaps the sonsy Mary who
but as links in an affectionate Fiction is not porchain of inference. Cranford.
are constantly appealing to one in Knutsford. not as literal duplicates of
customs. traiture. of Cheshire. crop up again when her dreams demand In reading the history actual habitat. nor how lavishly they promised response to loving
suggestions. youth have a way of creeping into her work. but it may easily become a record of those fleeting impressions which make an intrinsic part of the
Names familiar to a tissue. too. remarkable for no story of their own. it is curious to note the number of Peters of eminent memory.
but very commonly used.
not easy to
and meadows slept under the warm sky.
was not only of good repute. for did not the local grandee of Turveydropsical memory figure as Sir Peter Arley. has adopted it . nooks and corners.LATTER-DAY CRANFORD
had made the tutelary
land. and was not
. and more curious still to stumble on the name in the yard of Knutsford parish
for it must assuredly have been written by Miss Deborah herself.
a Friend and a
affectionate.BY OAK AND THORN
the rector's erring Peter named for him ? And let it be said incidentally that no one who visits that churchyard should omit reading the epitaph of the Reverend John Swinton. faithful.
and deliver' d with peculiar Force and Dignity. Thus it runs
an excellent natu-
Genius. improv'd with every Branch of polite and useful Learning. elegant. under direct inspiration from the ever admirable Doctor Johnson. His Conversation
zealous Assertor and an
able Defender of religious and
With Talents which would have
Church For reasons
swerable He declin'd repeated Offers of Preferment from his Friends many Years before his Death. entertaining. His Com-
positions were correct.
edifying. He bore his last Affliction with a Firmness and Fortitude truly Christian and died lamented
. instructive. of Nether Knutsford .
erty. nervous. and animated with a striking Vivacity of
to prove his alibi. within forty-eight hours. It was Higgins who. and blew prudence out of the ladies' heads while it coaxed some gobwhat was that but a refluent lin in. Gaskell aimed at no needless portraiture or exact
. within easy driving distance of Knutsford.!
by the Wise. Mrs. and who made nothing of flying over the
roads to commit a murder at Bristol and returning again.
shook them forth. in the 70'^ Year of his
Age. moreover. lo"' 1764. a child.
names doubtless got
into her mind."
Surely six-footed eulogy can no further go
Another suggestion of Cranford
the fact that an actual Arley Hall exists to this day. like an old song. the seat of the Warburtons. Lumb). living the jolly life of a prosperous gen211
. who lived at the Cann House on the Heathside (neighbor to Mrs. she heard the common reminiscences of the highwayman Higgins ? This was the Duval of Knutsford.
lived there. Gaskell's possible shrink-
ing when. when an hysteria of panic prevailed. The Cranford scare.
of Mrs. the Learned and the Good Dec.
He was executed at
Caermarthen in 1767. putting her head out of the carriage as the robber approached. no doubt. painting
him ever more
gloomily. one night left the ball (held. playing in corners. she called serenely.
ing them out with bewildering details of Did the child hertheir own device } self tremble at the spectre of Darkness
Lane huddling under the mantle of a Such emotions are the
. only forty-three
years before Mrs. Higgins Why did you leave the ball so early ? " And Higgins.BY OAK AND THORN
tleman. Mr. This was not too long a period for tradition to linger. bad deeds. like
Thor the Thunderer.<•
. for. But the lady's keen sight and innocence of mind proved her salvation . thus thrust back into his r61e of country gentleman. rode on discomfited.
What affrighting falsities might have garlanded his name in Knutsford similar legends all the world over may attest. Did the sensitive little child. overhear the Cranford ladies
relating his bold. until he loomed large. " Good-night. Gaskell was bom. in the old Assembly Room) to lie in wait for Lady Warburton and reap
falling into a lime pit."
. being ironically recommended to "get her a flannel waistcoat and flannel drawers.-'
this cherished animal. and you shall read of a certain old lady who had "an Alderney cow. a lieutenant in the merchant service." Might such lingering tragedy have been the secret of her pathos over the heartbreak and sickness bckrn of Peter's absence Did she know by too near experience what it is to listen for the footstep that never falls ? But one last proof clinches the argument that Knutsford is Cranford. which she looked upon as a daughter." Turn to the annals of Cranford.
. and " never was heard of more.
One curiously suggestive incident belongs to Mrs. though "some volke miscalle it." did
. was denuded of all her hair. about the year 1827. disappeared on his third or fourth voyage.LATTER-DAY CRANFORD
willow twigs of
roothold. Her only brother. Gaskell's own life. they are
and there bud greenly in the
vesture of the vernal year.
swept down a
living stream. and her adoptive mother. though
on it too definitely might serve merely to establish a false bond between the concrete and the ideal.
BY OAK AND THORN
indeed send her thenceforth to pasture
soberly clad in gray. is mentioned in it and our poor cow.
. and listen to the Rever-
end Henry Green. in spite of this one concession.
to the chronicles of con-
crete Knutsford. that Cranford is all about Knutsford My old mistress. and when I called again.
. she was full of eagerness to say.
without telling her to what it was supposed to relate. 'Why. sir. She read the tale of Life in a Country Town. she did go to the field in a large flannel waistcoat because she had burned '" herself in a lime pit 214
to lend her an
or cheerful book. who was confined to her house through illness.
. Miss Harker.
her Cranford. never believed in any intentional literary apotheosis of his cher-
ished town " woman of advanced age.
Omar Khayyam and what he smgs
. but the warm languor And note well of a midday dream. and that in jio studious mood.
. water and bountiful trees.
and the consummer. owning that the feast was spread and you kept a foolish fast. and the brown leaf-stems loosen on the trees the earth will by-and-by lock up
of the fleeting joys of life
soling grape. now jealously opened. and you must shrink back into winter hiding. in these new days. Throw aside therefore the fevered craving to read books and to rouse the world's wonder over your Set the mind only upon flowing haste.
her treasure-box. that summer stayed at your hand and you craved no guerdon. say
. and so also is the moving sea but you shall mar the spell of their spirit upon you if you creep under roofs
.UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
Betake yourself. For the long hours will weave themselves into ropes of sand you may not hold. that an upland pasture is good hunting for the soul.
by a chiming chorus and the hoarse logic of the legislating crows. while the sunset bums to gold. but the modern novel shall be held afar from your rest. serene floating on the lake. and you shall be called to life. matchless wonder the ferns and raspberry vines
. every morning. . . but it shall serve as withdrawal into the sanctuary of true repose. There shall be long hours spent " in a green shade " still. I would not forbid you to read Stevenson and Lanier.BY OAK AND THORN
night. and wake to see. !
. not for carousing and re-
enacting the sports of winter. to offend the face of heaven.
. Your muscles shall ache with tramping and the oars you shall be bruised from stumbling through the forest when you steal out by night to feel the dark among the pines you shall find the simplest fare ambrosial. and set up your tents by sea or lake. oh. and deep dream-locked sleep under canvas or in the open air. And
this adoption of the outer
born of fear and a crowded
constrains the soul. or even on the hilly pasture slopes at home.
a sickly fashion.
a happy com-
pany of such as love the earth.
tains a bee in her bonnet. in that she
loves her dripping house
by the wood
better than timbered roofs. and turned now to something worthy through righteous use. but if
. comrades pledged. and begging the kindly carrier for a lift in his van and even in America two women.
pasture. lord of
near some England soil. Easy is it in England to
suffer a summer change into vagrom ways.
raised them. These be the tamer ways of camping.
camper. may forswear roofs and walk abroad with
. None so necessary as he for he shall be the purveyor to their comfort. though Solo-
happily. to civilized minds. eating under hedges. and give them milk and eggs for the dirty bills born of winter's drudgery. and pleasant withal . like that of
in days of old. or
up their tent
farmer. tramping the blossomy lanes.
Her bee drones
world hears it very presence invests her with a
and the farmer-folk are her leal protectors from hunger and the world.
UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
breathing outside your tent and painting the shadow of their trembling on the sunHt walls.
and think. They They shall shall work hard. and make their summer home by lake or stream. cut a path to the strip of beach where the water is clear over sand and beguiling to the bather they shall row miles
. warring to fill the simpler needs of life at first hand. and cling about her knees. as through the eyes of old. is to return with gladness to our great
Mother.BY OAK AND THORN
four or more strong spirits can betake
to the deeper wood where even the sound of mowing and garnering in-
vade not. The life shall be enacted and they in little on their sunny stage
ancient struggle for
the earth more clearly. on the stars. they shall seize hold of the garment of their youth even though she were vanishing away.
for the potatoes for to-morrow's dinner.
and tug mightily
Fighting thus the next day's fire. nearer now in that they brood and smile. and love it.
by civilized theory. finds with amazement that no more secure and
than the forest
. too. old battle over again. Certain pitiful fallacies shall be unlearned through the
lessoning of camp.
the thrush sings in forest aisles. To walk is truly to live.
who has had
that rich surfeit. oh. to gypsy. And. and that darkness is as little to be feared as her own cloak..
it. the the glorified remem-
brance of his golden day.
. he has found out what it is to gather up the gold of the year and garner it away for winter spending. When the morning
. Who shall say no ? For after all.
UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
path at night. pillow is no longer the mainstay of sleep. and she dozes excellent well on a bed of pine needles with an arm tucked under her head. and gains an added lightness when the' sun breaks forth.
the shapes of things. She grows into the acquiescence of animals under a summer rain nay. the feasting of the eye line upon line of trembling branches. what but a thrush's song could trace upon the mind's fine tablet the outline of a leaf ? This it is to be fortunate at home but he who crosses the sea earns a double blessing and if he go to tramp. even to joy therein.
in the heart.
He is our cousin. There they wait for you. You shall learn strange things of the
. the wandering tinker and the unmistakable genus tramp. But there are roads and roads some of
shines before you and with
. stretching straight into bliss. and some of them beguilingly setting forth the number of miles from London.
forever. but oftener asleep on his face under a hedge. conscientious in milestones. But fear him not. in lines of
One such is the way out of Brecon to Llansaintfraed. you may throw up your heels at fate.
light. sometimes pursuing his slouching way. after Monmouth.BY OAK AND THORN
it a broad highway. no matter what your loyalty to green fields and beneficent sky. relics of a conquering past. thereby. drawing the heart out of your breast with longing. and a third the broad highway whereby. you go on to the beauties of Tintern and the Severn Sea. where the bones of Henry Vaughan have long been crying from a neglected grave another is the Roman road out of good Shrewsbury. and the comradeship of wandering is strong between us. Your only companioning there shall be the infrequent farmer's wain.
Can you tell me the way to Babine.
It is very day pleasant walking.
. it is well established out of the mouths of many witnesses that he honestly means the left. "
use.UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
English churl and what serves him for mind. one day. arranged a set of questions which might have proved of unfailing excellence had time and the hour given a
. We do not know it by name. which served only to lock up the knowledge indubitably there. You must never ask him a question on a sudden."*" we would invent a cunning preamble. We hope to get on to the next village. formulate the axiom that he knows not for when he one hand from t' other sends you to the right. Master Shepherd's wits might of themselves leave their wool-gathering. We think it may be Babine. and he would
goodman. after manifold disappointments in such queries. while you invade his roads and It will not be long before you valleys. thus " Good morn:
margin for their
the crass query. and he will swear he knows not Joseph. Two of us. what is the name of the next village " Thus delicately jogged. Pray you. for haste addles his wits.
see what life must have been for Alice. " Is n't that Tretower ?
"No. But go straight on. Yours will be the next
turned away. such are awakened to the point of directing you. for
"Yes." he responded. they do it by a system calculated to induce madness in the natural mind." Naturally you note of the church. miss. " There the road turns."
BY OAK AND THORN
send us on equipped. adrift. but with one last impulse varied the phrase. But jarred too rudely." He had recovered. " Well.
miss. £^0 you by that. " No.-* " I asked a rustic one day when that heaven lay palpably
"Tretower. denial seems his only refuge. playing croquet when the wickets would walk about the ground." You speak
hastily. " You see that church ? " begins your
woman walking } " Yes. "Is this Tretower.
Here have we
historic precedent. by slow and
having finished some complicated direction. He has learned what it must be to fly like the pigeon. Save at happy moments of active good fellowship. you learn what you must not do. but at the next turning of
all. they conclude in triumph " You carn't miss it " To some of us who have missed it many times. he
ever. to what you may. or the richer state of an acquiescent content.UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
one. but turn
indirectly to the Jew's house. and come.
little. " Turn up on your right hand at the next turning. at the very next
turning. and his mind reposes on the happy continuance of meas-
ured effort. turn of no hand. even while the echo of that prophecy died upon the air." And so by indirection.
. a certain negative process. The good walker eats lightly in the middle of the day. to live under water. to
. it is a terrifying phrase. His feet settle into the rhythm of the road. He never thinks. I have grown to consider it the equivalent of the evil eye. He is conscious only of ecstatic being.
knee-deep in heather. yet conceives a tender liking for some benignant article like a pair of ragged gaiters. or scour Salisbury Plain. What the byways of wandering may be only he can guess who searches in the corners of his mind for rich treasuretrove cast in there on fortunate days. Certain walks of our own lay placidly along canals. to lose breath in the
hot fragrance of Devon lanes.
One loses respect for clothes in the main. effortless Hfe may become they only know who have tasted the joys of the
road. is the freedom of casting it aside for the noonday rest. thymescented.
track In one
summer you may
tread the highway.
are pretty paradoxes.
feel of the
no burden. Llantisilio.
itself. to flee over
Heath. but an added gift but so. or
.BY OAK AND THORN
How take root in the earth and grow. to tramp. loud with larks. pursued by thunder-clouds and Dorset tragedies. or an old hat gloriously adorned with a mad . over the Exmoor hills. found
by the way. Brecon. a dress too impossible to be spoiled.cap pheasant's
where the clearest of streams run swiftly." We remember lengths of Welsh road. " like blue
smoke against the sky. again
azured by hyacinths and cool yellow with primroses. Sometimes entertainment falls richly on you expecting nothing at a mansion torn by Parliamentary cannon-balls. so that you seem
be moving in their good company. There was one upward range. when we came on great patches of brilliant sward. or a farmhouse like one near the Battlefield of Shrewsbury. under black-boled beeches. on Haughmond Abbey day. The world and the glory thereof are yours. and betake yourself to
. and you dip your dusty feet therein for comfort and for benison.UNDER THE GREAT BLUE TENT
even the water way to
Thames. eat dreamily but with mighty appetite. and every night you swing into town or hamlet. and then led us in to see his carven mantels and wainscoting that were old when the Lords of the Marches
kept their state. where nature's gentleman gave two of us to drink of milk foaming in newness. making their
own green shade. Still above lay drifts of wild hyacinth.
though indeed they do not seem to be you at all. rich in their changing foothold of earth and mothered by the sky. in a foolish play. always walk-
and the sun shines and speedwell thrives under the hedge they smile as they go.
They are not you yet the sight of them brims over with peace and prom:
ise. These are you and your good comrade.
even have shut you in again.
. ambitious only in that rivalry.
of motion. two silent figures swinging along on a summer road.
walking. They are children.
wherein you seem to be walking. they divert themselves hours long by
ing. beneath closed eyelids.
are walking. Sometimes at night you see. For the muscles them-
selves retain the
rest. but two far more happy than imagination could
perennial. the best legacy of all after the prisoning
guess.BY OAK AND THORN
and you go smiling away to
snapping the bags of bladder-campion.
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY
000 657 304
By oak and thorn
Brown. By oak and thorn.
. Alice. Alice.