CHAPTER X.

THE SERIOUS FANCY FAIR.

There were but few families within an ordinary visiting distance of the

Park who had not called on Mrs. Cartwright upon her marriage. Some went

from simple curiosity,--some expressly to quiz her,--a few from feelings

of real kindness towards the young people, whom it would be, they said,

a shame to give up merely because their mother had played the fool and

ruined all their prospects:--not a few, for the fun of seeing Mowbray

Park turned into a conventicle, and the inhabitants into its

congregation; and the rest came principally because Mr. Cartwright was

such a pious man, and likely to do so much good in the neighbourhood.

Among all these, the Fancy Fair announced to be held there on the 12th

of July, created a lively interest. All the world determined to attend;

and half the world gave themselves up to the making of pincushions and

pen-wipers with as much zeal as if the entire remnant of the Jewish

people, as well as the whole population of Fababo, were to be converted

thereby.

The mansion and grounds of Mr. Cartwright's residence began to give note

of very great and splendid preparation for this serious fete. Never had

the reverend vicar been seen in such spirits on any former occasion;

"His bosom's lord sat lightly on his throne;"

and (due allowance being made for the nature of the proceedings) it

might safely be averred, that no entertainment ever given in the

neighbourhood had caused more sensation, or been prepared for with a

more lavish expenditure.

The whole of the 9th, 10th, and 11th days of the month were entirely

employed by the majority of the Cartwright household in receiving and

arranging the different works of fancy contributed by the neighbouring

ladies for the sale. By far the greater half of these articles were

pincushions, and for the most part they packed and unpacked well and

safely; but amidst the vast variety of forms into which this favourite

vehicle of charity was turned, some among them were equally ingenious in

design, delicate in execution, and difficult of carriage.

There were harps, of which the strings were actually musical, and the

foot a pincushion. Old women of pasteboard, washing their feet in a

pasteboard tub, but with knees stuffed for pincushions. Pasteboard

hunch-backs, the hunches being pincushions. Babies dressed with the

nicest taste and care, their plump little necks and shoulders forming

pincushions. Pretty silken volumes, lettered "pointed satires," and

their yellow edges stuffed for pincushions. Ladies very fashionably

dressed, with the crowns of their bonnets, and their graceful backs,

prepared as pincushions. These, and ten thousand more, of which a

prolonged description might probably prove tedious, formed the staple

commodity of the elegant booths, which stretched themselves in two long

rows from one extremity of the beautiful lawn to the other. Tracts, so

numerous that it would be impossible to give their measure or their

value by any other calculation than that of their weight, were made by

the ingenuity of the fair and pious contributors to assume a very

tempting aspect, bound by their own delicate hands in silks and velvets

of every hue to be found between earth and heaven, green and blue

inclusive.

It would be quite impossible to give any thing deserving the name of a

catalogue of the articles contributed to this charming exhibition; and

it will therefore be better not to attempt it. It will be sufficient to

observe, that, by a sentiment of elegant refinement which seemed to have

pervaded all the contributors, every article to which the idea of

utility could attach was scrupulously banished; it not being fair, as

some of the ladies very judiciously observed, to injure the poor

shopkeepers by permitting the sale of any thing that any body in the

world could really wish to buy. One instance of very delicate attention

on the part of Mrs. Cartwright towards the hero of the fete deserves to

be recorded, as showing both the natural kindness of her temper, and the

respect in which every feeling of this celebrated character was held.

Among the almost incredible number of devices for winding silks, or for

converting them into bobbins, or for some other of the ingenious little

contrivances invented for--one hardly knows what, was a very pretty

thing, more in the shape of a Jew's harp than any thing else. The

instant Mrs. Cartwright cast her eyes on this, she ordered it to be

withdrawn, observing that, as the Reverend Isaac Isaacs himself was

expected to honour the entertainment with his presence, she could by no

means permit any thing bearing such a name to appear.

It may be feared that it was with a far different spirit Mr. Jacob

Cartwright, on hearing his stepmother mention this exclusion, and the

motive for it, proposed that all the cold chickens and turkies to be

eaten at the banquet should appear without their usual accompaniment of

cold hams,--a pleasantry which, though it won a smile from his indulgent

father, was by no means well received by Mrs. Cartwright.

The twelfth day of July itself arrived at last, and fortunately was as

fine a day as ever shone. Helen asked Rosalind if she remembered the day

on which Charles came of age, and the question brought tears to the eyes

of both: this, however, was but a trifling exception to the general

cheerfulness; all the world really looked as gay as if the Fancy Fair

were not a serious one. In one of the long and elegantly decorated

booths, indeed, one silly young girl was heard to exclaim, "Oh! what a

beautiful place this would be for dancing!"--but the levity was checked

by Mr. Cartwright, who, happening to overhear her, replied, "My dear

young lady, there is no dancing in heaven!"

It had been settled among the ladies of the neighbourhood, on the first

announcement of this pious and charitable undertaking, that no _young_

ladies, either married or single, should be invited to sell the

articles; and for some time after the circulation of this decision, it

appeared to be very doubtful whether there would be any ladies found

(not actually too decrepit to endure the fatigue) who would be willing

to undertake it. This circumstance threw poor Mrs. Cartwright into great

embarrassment. The idea of having advertised a Fancy Fair, and then to

be unable to procure ladies to preside at it, was a vexation almost

beyond what even a professing Christian's patience could bear.

When at length it appeared evident that every middle-aged lady for ten

miles round had, for some excellent good reason or other, declined the

office, Mr. Cartwright proposed that gentlemen, instead of ladies,

should perform it. But to this Miss Charlotte Richards, who happened to

be present when the difficulty was discussed, entered a violent protest,

declaring that she was quite sure, if such a measure were resorted to,

not one hundredth part of the goods would be sold. Neither Jew nor

Gentile, she assured them, would ever make any thing by it, if such a

project were resorted to; and in short she pleaded the cause of the

ladies so well, that after some time it was agreed that the original

principle should be altogether changed, and that the youngest and

prettiest ladies should be selected, only with this condition

annexed--that they should all be dressed in uniform, the form and

material of which were to be specified by Mrs. Cartwright.

The circular letter announcing this alteration was composed by Mr.

Cartwright himself, and proved perfectly successful, although it

contained but few words.

"It having been decided at a meeting of some of the senior supporters of

the South Central African Bible Association, that the cause of the poor

inhabitants of Fababo was one which ought to be peculiarly interesting

to the young and lovely, inasmuch as it is beyond all others the cause

of piety; it was therefore strongly recommended that they should be

especially chosen and elected to serve the office of vendors or sellers

at the Fancy Fair instituted by the Reverend William Jacob Cartwright,

and by him appointed to be held on his own premises."--After which

followed a request that such ladies as were kindly willing to undertake

the fatigues of the office, would forthwith forward their names to Mrs.

Cartwright, that they might receive from her instructions respecting the

uniform to be worn on the occasion.

The number of applications for permission to sell, which followed the

circulation of this letter, was quite extraordinary, and so greatly

exceeded the number required, that the task of selection became

difficult, if not impossible; so it was finally decided that a

description of the uniform should be sent to them all, and that those

who arrived first, should be installed in their office under condition

of permitting a relay to succeed them after the enjoyment of two hours

of duty.

The consequence of this was, that at a very early hour, not only all the

young and handsome part of the company expected, but all who considered

themselves as belonging to that class, were seen arriving in their very

becoming sad-coloured suits, with their smooth braided tresses, and

Quakerish bonnets and caps.

"Let all the ladies in the serious uniform stand up together behind the

stalls if they like it," said the accommodating Mrs. Cartwright: "it

would be so very difficult to select; and they will all look so very

well!"

As the stalls were all ready, having been walked round, through, and

about, by Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright, Mr. Hetherington the curate, Chivers

the butler, Curtis the lady's maid, as well as all the other serious

servants, and all agreeing in the opinion that it was impossible any

thing could be more beautiful, the uniform ladies were ushered into

them, and begged to decide among themselves the order in which they

should stand.

The manner in which this self-regulating system worked was amusing, and

Rosalind Torrington stood by, and enjoyed it greatly. As soon as it was

notified to the young and pretty ladies that the booths were all ready,

the prices of every article marked, and all things prepared so that they

might take their places behind the stands in such order as they should

agree among themselves, any one who had witnessed and watched the sweet

universal smile with which each one regarded the other, and the charming

accents in which all exclaimed as with one voice, "Oh! it is exactly the

same to me where I stand," would have been ready to declare that even

their youth and beauty were less attractive than the sweet temper which

seemed to be so universal among them.

The fair bevy, amounting to above fifty, poured themselves by various

entrances into the booths, which were in fact a succession of very

handsome tents, against the sides of which were ranged the elegantly

decorated stands; while through the whole extent, a space of nearly

thirty feet was left for promenading. In the centre of the range, the

gaily painted canvass rose into a lofty point, from which, to the

extremity of the circle round it, depended graceful draperies, festooned

with large bunches of flowers. In the middle of this noble circular tent

stood a lofty frame, supporting the finest greenhouse plants, and the

stalls which here skirted the sides of the enclosure were decidedly more

distinguished by their elegant decorations than the rest.

"Oh dear! how lovely!" was the universal exclamation uttered by the

ladies on entering this beautiful circle.

"Well! I think I will stand here," said one of the most lively and

enterprising among them, placing herself at the same time behind a world

of many-tinted paper and silk commodities, close to which was a side

entrance arched with evergreen boughs, and gay with a thousand blossoms.

"And I will take this stand!" cried a stout and long-limbed demoiselle,

stepping out with great activity to secure the one opposite.

"This will just suit me!" said a third, popping into another of the

enviable stations which flanked the garlanded entrances, and immediately

taking possession of its lofty seat and comfortable footstool.

Up to this point the universal smile continued, with an almost unabated

display of charming teeth; but to the fourth place, promising equal

affluence of passers-by to the three already taken, no less than four

ladies rushed at once. And then began the civil war which in a greater

or less degree, as circumstances may excite or assuage it, rages at all

fancy fairs, bazaars, and charity sales of every class and denomination

whatever.

Some folks, uninitiated in such matters, may suppose that there is less

of this at a serious fancy fair than at one professing to be gay. But a

little experience will rapidly undeceive them. Whether the benevolent

sale-ladies be beautiful saints or beautiful sinners, the inclination to

show off Nature's gifts to the best advantage is pretty nearly the same;

and whether the sweet graceful thanks, so softly uttered, be constructed

after one form or another, the pleasure of speaking them is the same

likewise. What matters it, whether a bright eye laugh from beneath a

drapery of pendent curls, or is raised to heaven with no twisted meshes

to obscure its upward ray? What matters it whether ruby lips open to

say, "Heaven reward you, sir! Our poor missionaries shall pray for you!"

or, "Thank you!" (with a familiar nod) "some dear Spanish whiskerandos

shall buy a sword with this!" In both cases the speaker would

indisputably prefer having a well-frequented stand to speak from; and if

it chance to be placed beside some avenue through which the crowd must

pass and repass incessantly, why so much the better.

The four ladies that met together with more of haste than inclination at

the last of the door-way stands, as above described, were really,

considering all things, exceedingly civil to each other. At the early

part of a busy day, the temper can bear much more without wincing, than

after it has been battered and bruised by all the little _contretems_

that are almost sure to beset it before the close of it.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I believe I was here first:"

"Oh, dear! I hope I did not hurt you, but this is my place:"

"You must let me stand here, dear ladies, for I have set my heart upon

it:"--comprised very nearly all the spoken part of the contest. A few

sidelong glances there might have been, and one or two almost invisible

_nudges_; but after all, the person who finally got possession of the

desired post, was a tall, thin, pale, and remarkably pious maiden, who

having laid her hand upon the board, and her foot upon the stool, moved

them no more, but who from first to last did not pronounce a single

word.

Though these four favourite seats were thus rapidly taken possession of,

there was still a good deal to be struggled for. It appeared indeed for

some time that all the fifty young and handsome ladies had firmly made

up their minds to station themselves in the circular tent, and nowhere

else.

Greatly did the peaceable Mrs. Cartwright rejoice that she had from the

first desired the ladies to please themselves; for it soon became

evident that it would have been no easy task for her to please them.

Very continuous buzzings made themselves heard around the canvass walls;

and lady-like remonstrances were occasionally audible.

"Really, ladies, I think we are very close here:"

"Would it not be better for some of the ladies to move on?"

"I believe, ma'am, that you will find no room just here:" and,

"Upon my word I must beg you not to press upon me so!"--were sentences

distinctly repeated in more places than one.

At length things, or rather ladies, began to arrange themselves in

tolerable order, the difficulty being got over at last, as always

happens upon such occasions, by the best tempers taking the worst

places.

It was an almost simultaneous rush of carriages through the Park Gates,

and the approach of many persons on foot by various entrances, which at

last produced this desirable effect. Mr. Cartwright now came forth in

all his glory from beneath the shelter of a sort of canvass portico that

formed the entrance to the principal line of tents. Almost innumerable

were the hands he shook, the bows he made, and the smiles he smiled. It

is perfectly impossible that he could have sustained so radiant and

benevolent a graciousness to all sorts and conditions of men, had not

his animal spirits been sustained by the ever-present recollection that

the little key which dangled from his watch-chain, and with which he

constantly dallied when any of his ten fingers were disengaged from

hand-shaking, kept watch and ward over his lady's will.

Mrs. Cartwright, meanwhile, not being in a situation to endure the

fatigue of standing, sat with some dozen chairs around her, waiting for

the most distinguished guests, within the flowery shelter of this same

pretty portico, round which were ranged orange-trees, and various other

fragrant plants, reaching from the ground almost to the roof.

Whenever any person arrived of sufficient importance to be so

distinguished, the Vicar of Wrexhill himself ushered them to the

presence of his lady, and those so honoured at length filled all the

chairs around her. To all the rest Mrs. Cartwright bowed and smiled as

they passed onward; as they all most obediently did, in compliance with

the mandate of their host, who continued to utter with little

intermission, "Straight on if you please--straight on,--and you will

reach the centre pavilion."

Between the spot at which the carriages set down the company, and the

entrance to this portico, four servants in rich liveries were stationed

to pass their names to Chivers, who stood within it. At length a party

who had walked across the Park and entered on the lawn by the little

hand gate, (to pass through which, the present master of the domain had

once considered as his dearest privilege,) approached the entrance at a

point by which they escaped three out of the four reverberations of

their names, and were very quietly stepping under the draperied

entrance, when the fourth now stopped them short to demand their style

and title.

"Mrs. and the Miss Richards,--Lord Hilton," screamed the trumpet-mouthed

London-bred domestic, who, it may be observed in passing, had, like most

of his fellows, answered one of Mr. Cartwright's advertisements headed

thus,

"Wanted

to live in the country

A SERIOUS FOOTMAN."

No sooner did the title reach the vicar's ears, than he dropped pious

Mr. Somebody's hand which he was affectionately pressing, and turning

short round met the cold glance of the honest-hearted Major Dalrymple,

who advanced with Mrs. Richards upon one arm, and his affianced Mary on

the other. A moment of rather awkward deliberation ensued, as to whether

the man, or the man's title, should modify the manner of his reception;

but before the question could be decided, the party had quietly passed

on, without appearing to perceive him. The two elder Miss Richards

followed, both of them having been obliged to relinquish their hopes of

presiding at a stand, in consequence of the expensive nature of the

uniform. These two young ladies, who from the first hour of their

conversion had really been among the most faithful followers of the

Vicar of Wrexhill in all ways--ready to be in love with him--ready to

pray with him--and now ready to bow before him as almost the greatest

man in the county, were not perhaps greeted with all the distinguished

kindness they deserved. Unfortunately for their feelings, Mr. Cartwright

was more awake to the fact that they were sisters to little Mary, than

to their very excellent chance of becoming sisters-in-law to a

nobleman:--and so they too passed on, without pausing, as they had

intended to do, for the expression of their unbounded admiration for him

and his Fancy Fair.

Nearly the whole of the invited society were already assembled, and the

Park was beginning to fill with the multitude which was to be admitted

to the tents after the collation, when, at length, the Reverend Isaac

Isaacs was announced.

The arrival of the hero of the day produced, as may be supposed, a very

powerful sensation; his name was no sooner pronounced by the servants

than it was caught up by the company, and borne along from mouth to

mouth till every individual of the crowd which filled the tents was made

acquainted with the interesting fact, that the Reverend Isaac Isaacs was

approaching. The effect of this was for some moments really alarming;

every Christian soul turned back to welcome the converted Jew, and

something nearly resembling suffocation ensued. Indeed when the throng

which pressed back to meet him, met that which had turned to follow him

as he laboured to make his way between the stands, the crush was really

terrible; and had there not fortunately been many lateral exits through

which those escaped who loved their lives better than the gratification

of their curiosity, the consequences might have been very serious.

Not all, however, whose strength and whose zeal induced them to remain,

could get a sight of this desired of all eyes: for, as Mr. Isaacs was a

very short man, those only who were very close could distinguish him.

The effect of this procession, however, through the double row of

stands, still thickly studded with pincushions, every one of which had

been made for his sake, was very impressive, and rendered greatly more

so by every fair sales-woman mounting upon the high seat with which she

was furnished for occasional rest, and thus looking down upon him as he

passed in attitudes that displayed both courage and enthusiasm.

The weather was intensely hot, and more than once he appeared nearly

overcome by his emotions. He expressed the greatest concern for having

arrived so late, and especially for having missed the opening prayer,

which, as he imagined, had been pronounced by Mr. Cartwright himself;

but when it was explained to him that this was not the case, and,

moreover, that he was not too late to share the blessing to be given by

that gentleman, he became more reconciled to the accident which had

detained him, and gave himself wholly up to the enjoyment of the

striking spectacle that surrounded him.

After he had remained for some time in the central pavilion, gazing, and

gazed at, in a manner which it was extremely interesting to watch, some

one well acquainted with the best method of carrying on the business of

such a meeting as the present, suggested that it would be advisable that

the acolyte should retire till the sale of the goods was pretty well

completed; for if the feeling among the charitable crowd were permitted

to exhaust itself in affectionate glances towards Mr. Isaacs, no more

money would be collected: and it was also judiciously remarked, that it

might be as well to circulate through the company the assurance, that as

soon as the stalls were about two-thirds cleared, the banquet would be

announced.

The effect of these suggestions was speedily visible; Mr. Isaacs stood

in the enjoyment of space and fresh air before the entrance to the

portico, engrossing the almost undivided attention of his great patron,

while ladies peeped at him from a respectful distance; and Chivers

himself, with a look as reverential as if he were waiting upon an

apostle, approached him with Madeira and soda water.

The sale, meanwhile, benefited equally by his near presence and his

actual absence. Enthusiasm was raised without being disturbed in that

great object of all English Christian enthusiasm--the disbursing of

money; and by four o'clock such a report was made of the general

receipts, that the selling ladies were waited upon by as many clergymen

as could be collected to hand them from their stands to the banquet,

and, when these were all furnished with a fair partner, the most serious

gentlemen among the company were requested to take charge of the rest.

Mrs. Cartwright herself was led to the great dining-room by Mr. Isaacs,

and for this reason, or else because it was the great dining-room, the

crowd which followed her became so oppressive that the doors of the room

were ordered to be closed and strictly guarded. This measure was equally

serviceable to those within and without; for no sooner was it fully

understood that this decisive mode had been resorted to, than the other

tables were instantly filled, and nothing could be more satisfactory

than the activity with which eating and drinking proceeded in all

directions.

The champagne flowed freely; and whether it were that the sacred cause

for which the meeting was assembled appeared to justify, or at least

excuse, some little excess,--or that nothing furnished at Mr.

Cartwright's board but must bring a blessing to him who swallowed

it,--or that the fervent season led to thirst, and thirst to copious

libations:--whatever the cause, it is certain that a very large quantity

of wine was swallowed that day, and that even the most serious of the

party felt their spirits considerably elevated thereby.

But, in recording this fact, it should be mentioned likewise, that,

excepting in some few instances in which thirst, good wine, and

indiscretion united to overpower some unfortunate individuals, the

serious gentlemen of the party, though elevated, were far from drunk;

and the tone of their conversation only became more animated, without

losing any portion of the peculiar jargon which distinguished it when

they were perfectly sober.

The discourse especially, which was carried on round Mr. Cartwright

after the ladies retired, was, for the most part, of the most purely

Calvinistical cast: though some of the anecdotes related might, perhaps,

in their details, have partaken more of the nature of miracles than they

would have done if fewer champagne corks had saluted the ceiling.

One clerical gentleman, for instance, a Mr. Thompson, who was much

distinguished for his piety, stated as a fact which had happened to

himself, that, in his early days, before the gift of extempore preaching

was fully come upon him, he was one Sabbath-day at the house of a

reverend friend, who, being taken suddenly ill, desired Mr. Thompson to

preach for him, at the same time furnishing him with the written

discourse which he had been himself about to deliver. "I mounted the

pulpit," said Mr. Thompson, "with this written sermon in my pocket; but

the moment I drew it forth and opened it, I perceived, to my

inexpressible dismay, that the handwriting was totally illegible to me.

For a few moments I was visited with heavy doubts and discomfiture of

spirit, but I had immediate recourse to prayer. I closed the book, and

implored that its characters might be made legible to me;--and when I

opened it again, the pages seemed to my eyes to be as a manuscript of my

own."

This statement, however, was not only received with every evidence of

the most undoubting belief, but an elderly clergyman, who sat near the

narrator, exclaimed with great warmth, "I thank you, sir,--I thank you

greatly, Mr. Thompson, for this shining example of the effect of ready

piety and ready wit. Though the cloth is removed, sir, I must ask to

drink a glass of wine with you,--and may Heaven continue to you its

especial grace!"

There were some phrases too, which, though undoubtedly sanctioned by

serious usage, sounded strangely when used in a scene apparently of such

gay festivity.

One gentleman confessed very frankly his inability to resist taking more

of such wine as that now set before them than was altogether consistent

with his own strict ideas of ministerial propriety. "But," added he,

"though in so yielding, I am conscious of being in some sort wrong, I

feel intimately persuaded at the same time, that by thus freely

demonstrating the strength and power of original sin within me, I am

doing a service to the cause of religion, by establishing one of its

most important truths."

This apology was received with universal applause; it manifested, as one

of the company remarked, equal soundness of faith, and delicacy of

conscience.

One of the most celebrated of the regular London speakers, known at all

meetings throughout the whole evangelical season, having silently

emptied a bottle of claret, which he kept close to him, began, just as

he had finished the last glass, to recover the use of his tongue. His

first words were, "My king has been paying me a visit."

"Indeed!" said Mr. Cartwright, whose attention was instantly roused by

this very interesting statement; "where was the visit made, Mr. White?"

"Even here, sir," replied Mr. White solemnly: "here, since I have been

sitting silently at your hospitable board."

"As how, sir?" inquired a certain Sir William Crompton, who was placed

near him. "Do you mean that you have been sleeping, and that his Majesty

has visited you in your dreams?"

"The Majesty that I speak of, sir," replied Mr. White, "is the King of

Heaven."

"What other could it be!" exclaimed Mr. Cartwright, showing the whites

of his eyes, and appearing scandalized at the blunder.

"I wonder, Mr. Cartwright," said a young man of decidedly pious

propensities, but not as yet considering himself quite assured of his

election,--"I wonder, Mr. Cartwright, whether I shall be saved or not?"

"It is a most interesting question, my young friend," replied the vicar

mildly; "and you really cannot pay too much attention to it. I am happy

to see that it leaves you not, even at the festive board; and I

sincerely hope it will finally be settled to your satisfaction. But as

yet it is impossible to decide."

"I shall not fail to ride over to hear you preach, excellent Mr.

Cartwright!" said a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who, though not

hitherto enrolled in the evangelical calendar, was so struck on the

present occasion with the hospitable entertainment he received, that he

determined to cultivate the acquaintance.

"You do me great honour, sir!" replied the vicar. "If you do, I hope it

will be on a day when you can stay supper with us."

"You are excessively kind, my dear sir!" answered the guest; "but as my

place is at least ten miles distant from yours, I fear, if you sup in

the same style that you dine, it would be somewhat late before I got

home."

Mr. Cartwright bowed, dropped his eyes, and said nothing.

"Oh, sir!" said Mr. Hetherington, who, though he had drunk more than any

man at table, excepting the cousin Corbold, had as yet in no degree lost

his apprehension,--"Oh, sir! you quite mistake. The supper that the

excellent Mr. Cartwright means, is to be taken at the table of the

Lord!"

"Dear me!" exclaimed the squire, who really meant to be both civil and

serious, "I beg pardon, I made a sad blunder indeed!"

"There is nothing sad but sin, Mr. Wilkins!" replied the vicar meekly.

"A mistake is no sin. Even I myself have sometimes been mistaken."

"What heavenly-minded humility there is in Mr. Cartwright!" said Mr.

Hetherington in a loud whisper to his neighbour: "every day he lives

seems to elevate my idea of his character. Is not this claret admirable,

Mr. Dickson?"

Just at this moment Chivers the butler entered the room and whispered

something in his master's ear.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Cartwright, "a very disagreeable accident, upon

my word."

"What is it, sir?" inquired several voices at once.

"The head cook, gentlemen," replied Chivers, "has fallen off the

larder-ladder, and has put out his shoulder."

"A very disagreeable accident indeed," echoed the guests.

The butler whispered again.

"Certainly, Chivers, certainly. I am very glad Mr. Bird the surgeon

happens to be on the premises. Let him immediately set the joint, and

when this is done, and the poor fellow laid comfortably in bed, come for

Mr. Hetherington, whom I will immediately order to awaken him."

"Bless my soul, sir!" exclaimed the good-natured Sir William Crompton;

"won't that be rather injudicious? If the poor fellow should get a nap,

I should think it would be the worst thing in the world to awaken him."

"Pardon me, Sir William," replied the vicar with great respect, "but

persons of the world do not well understand the language of those who

are not of the world. No accident, no illness ever occurs in my house,

Sir William, but my first effort is to awaken the soul of the sufferer

to a proper sense of his sins. I always take care they shall be told

that the jaws of the tomb are opening before them, and that, as death

comes like a thief in the night, they should be watching for him. This,

in the language of a pious and professing Christian, is called an

awakening; and needful as it is at all times, it is of course more

needful still in sickness, or danger of any kind."

Sir William Crompton filled his glass with the wealthy vicar's admirable

wine, and said no more.

The time was now approaching at which the populace were to be admitted

to the tents on the lawn; and Mr. Cartwright having looked at his watch,

rose and said, "Gentlemen,--It is distressing to me to be forced to

disturb you, but the business of the meeting requires that we should all

repair to the lawn. The populace are about to be admitted, and it is

expected that our estimable Mr. Isaacs will benefit very considerably by

the eagerness with which the farmers' wives and daughters will purchase

the articles which remain of our Christian ladies' elegant handiworks.

One bumper to the success of the Reverend Isaac Isaacs! and to the

conversion of the people of Fababo!--And now we will return to our duty

in the tents."

"To your tents, O Israel!" shouted a young man, with more of wine than

wit, as he turned towards the converted Jew; "for myself," he added,

"I'll be d--d if I stir an inch till I have finished this bottle."

Mr. Cartwright stopped short in his progress towards the door. He turned

a glance, more inquiring perhaps than stern, on the face of the

intoxicated speaker, and perceived that he was the nephew of an earl;

the sole reason indeed which had procured him the honour of a seat in

that distinguished circle.

The vicar balanced for a moment whether he should reprimand him or not.

Had he been the son, instead of the nephew of the noble lord, he would

certainly have passed on in holy meditation, but, as it was, he stopped.

There were many serious eyes upon him, notwithstanding the claret. He

remembered that the earl had a "goodly progeny," and that consequently

his nephew would never be likely to succeed to his title; and therefore

with great dignity, and much pious solemnity, he thus addressed his

curate, who, in his capacity of domestic chaplain, was ever near him.

"Mr. Hetherington! you have heard the awful words spoken by Mr. Augustus

Mappleton. Remember, sir, that his repentance and conversion be prayed

for at our concluding service this evening, and also in your extempore

prayer before sermon on next Sabbath morning."

These words had a very sobering effect on the company, and the whole

party made, all things considered, a very orderly exit from the

dining-room, not however without Mr. Cartwright finding an opportunity

of whispering in the ear of his cousin--

"Now is your time, Stephen, to go into the dressing-room."

The Vicar of Wrexhill · 第 10 / 15 章