The next day being Sunday, the boys walked over to church with Mr and
Mrs Inglis--to the pretty old church that looked as if it was built of
ivy, so thoroughly were tower, nave, and chancel covered with the dark
green leaves, which had to be kept cut back or they would have soon
covered up the windows; and even then, long green shoots were dangling
about in all directions, ready to take advantage of a week or two's
neglect, and commence veiling the old stone mullioned windows.
This was Fred's first visit to the church, for on the first Sundays of
his stay the days had been lowering, and Mr Inglis read prayers in the
dining-room; and now that the lad followed his cousins out of the bright
sunshine, through the old porch, and into the dim venerable-looking
building, everything struck him as being so very different from what he
had been accustomed to see in London. Here there were the bare
whitewashed walls, with the old tablets upon them, and here and there an
old rusty helmet, or a breastplate and a pair of gauntlets. Then there
were the quaint old brasses of a knight or squire and his wife, with a
step-like row of children by their side, and all let in the old blue
slabs that paved the floor, ever which the worshippers of succeeding
generations had passed for hundreds of years since. Then, too, there
was the recumbent figure of the Knight Templar lying cross-legged, with
his feet resting upon a dog, or some curious heraldic beast, and carved
to represent his having worn chain, armour; the old oak pulpit; the
fragments of stained glass in the windows; and, above all, the quaint
appearance of many of the country people, dressed as they were in their
Sunday best. These were among the things that took Fred's especial
attention when he first entered the old village church; but when,
instead of an organ, the choir commenced singing to the accompaniment of
an old clarionet, a bassoon, and bass viol, Fred was completely
astonished, for he had never been in a church before where there was not
an imposing-looking instrument, with its large rows of gilt pipes.
However, the hymn, in spite of the bad accompaniment, was very sweetly
sung, and the service beautifully read in the soft silence of that old,
old church, with the thousand scents of the country floating in through
the open doors and windows, like Nature's own incense entering the
temple of Nature's God.
Fred sat and listened, and by degrees all that was quaint and odd seemed
to fade away, and leave nothing but the solemn stillness of the place,
with the calm impressive voice of the clergyman telling of the goodness
and love of his Maker. Then, too, the quiet walk back, with the breeze
gently waving the corn now in full ear, making shade after shade of
green appear to sweep over the surface of the many acres of rank wheat.
The river, too, seemed to sparkle clearer and brighter than ever as the
bright sun's rays flashed from the little Tipples. Altogether, Fred
could not help, boy as he was, contrasting the bright country air and
the lovely landscape with the fashionable London church in fashionable
London: the hot dusty pavement--the noisy street and the oppressive
choky air; and then he thought how he would like to live at Hollowdell
for ever.
Boys are very quick in making their determinations, and Fred thought he
was quite right in his; but he had never been down there in the winter,
when the clay stuck to the boots, and the leaves had forsaken the trees;
when the cold soaking rain came drenching down for day after day, and
ofttimes the swollen river would be flooding the meadows. Fred had
never realised the country in those times, when it was in such a state
that by preference those who could stayed as much indoors as possible;
but no one, to have looked at the present aspect of things, could have
supposed such a change possible. Sunday in the country, in the long
bright days of summer, truly is delightful, for it is only then that the
young fully realise the calmness and beauty, for the cessation from
sports leaves the young minds time to think a little more upon what is
around them.
But I find that I am getting into too serious a strain, and my young
readers will be for skipping all this portion of my story; so I must
hasten to say that the calm summer evening was spent in a delightful
walk down by the pleasant wood-side, where out of their reach the party
could see, as it grew later, the light mists begin to curl above the
river in many a graceful fold. Fred's friend, the night-jar, was out,
and the nightingale in full call, while every now and then his sweet
song was interrupted by the harsh "Tu--whoo--hoo--hoo--oo," of an owl
somewhere in the recesses of the wood. Then the return home was made,
and soon after the lads were asleep and dreaming of their botanical trip
to the Camp Hill.