And in this manner, mon maitre, I left the house of the Count of ---'

* * * * *

After travelling four days and nights, we arrived at Madrid without

having experienced the slightest accident, though it is but just to

observe, and always with gratitude to the Almighty, that the next mail

was stopped. A singular incident befell me immediately after my arrival.

On entering the arch of the posada called La Reyna, where I intended to

put up, I found myself encircled in a person's arms, and on turning round

in amazement beheld my Greek servant, Antonio. He was haggard and ill-

dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets.

As soon as we were alone he informed me that since my departure he had

undergone great misery and destitution, having, during the whole period,

been unable to find a master in need of his services, so that he was

brought nearly to the verge of desperation; but that on the night

immediately preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me,

mounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the posada, and that on

that account he had been waiting there during the greater part of the

day. I do not pretend to offer an opinion concerning this narrative,

which is beyond the reach of my philosophy, and shall content myself with

observing, that only two individuals in Madrid were aware of my arrival

in Spain. I was very glad to receive him again into my service, as,

notwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of no small

assistance to me in my wanderings and Biblical labours.

* * * * *

The posada where I had put up was a good specimen of the old Spanish inn,

being much the same as those described in the time of Philip the Third or

Fourth. The rooms were many and large, floored with either brick or

stone, generally with an alcove at the end, in which stood a wretched

flock bed. Behind the house was a court, and in the rear of this a

stable, full of horses, ponies, mules, machos, and donkeys, for there was

no lack of guests, who, however, for the most part slept in the stable

with their caballerias, being either arrieros or small peddling

merchants, who travelled the country with coarse cloth or linen. Opposite

to my room in the corridor lodged a wounded officer, who had just arrived

from San Sebastian on a galled broken-kneed pony: he was an Estrimenian,

and was returning to his own village to be cured. He was attended by

three broken soldiers, lame or maimed, and unfit for service: they told

me that they were of the same village as his worship, and on that account

he permitted them to travel with him. They slept amongst the litter, and

throughout the day lounged about the house smoking paper cigars. I never

saw them eating, though they frequently went to a dark cool corner, where

stood a bota or kind of water pitcher, which they held about six inches

from their black filmy lips, permitting the liquid to trickle down their

throats. They said they had no pay and were quite destitute of money,

that su merced the officer occasionally gave them a piece of bread, but

that he himself was poor and had only a few dollars. Brave guests for an

inn, thought I; yet, to the honour of Spain be it spoken, it is one of

the few countries in Europe where poverty is never insulted nor looked

upon with contempt. Even at an inn, the poor man is never spurned from

the door, and if not harboured, is at least dismissed with fair words,

and consigned to the mercies of God and his mother. This is as it should

be. I laugh at the bigotry and prejudices of Spain, I abhor the cruelty

and ferocity which have cast a stain of eternal infamy on her history,

but I will say for the Spaniards that in their social intercourse no

people in the world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the

dignity of human nature, or better understand the behaviour which it

behoves a man to adopt towards his fellow beings. I have said that it is

one of the few countries in Europe where poverty is not treated with

contempt, and I may add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized. In

Spain the very beggar does not feel himself a degraded being, for he

kisses no one's feet, and knows not what it is to be cuffed or spit upon;

and in Spain the duke or the marquis can scarcely entertain a very

overweening opinion of his own consequence, as he finds no one, with

perhaps the exception of his French valet, to fawn upon or flatter him.

* * * * *

The landlord brought the ale, placed it on the table, and then stood as

if waiting for something.

'I suppose you are waiting to be paid,' said I, 'what is your demand?'

'Sixpence for this jug, and sixpence for the other,' said the landlord.

I took out a shilling and said: 'It is but right that I should pay half

of the reckoning, and as the whole affair is merely a shilling matter, I

should feel obliged in being permitted to pay the whole, so, landlord,

take the shilling, and remember you are paid.' I then delivered the

shilling to the landlord, but had no sooner done so than the man in grey,

starting up in violent agitation, wrested the money from the other, and

flung it down on the table before me saying:--

'No, no, that will never do. I invited you in here to drink, and now you

would pay for the liquor which I ordered. You English are free with your

money, but you are sometimes free with it at the expense of people's

feelings. I am a Welshman, and I know Englishmen consider all Welshmen

hogs. But we are not hogs, mind you! for we have little feelings which

hogs have not. Moreover, I would have you know that we have money,

though perhaps not so much as the Saxon.' Then putting his hand into his

pocket, he pulled out a shilling, and giving it to the landlord, said in

Welsh: 'Now thou art paid and mayst go thy ways till thou art again

called for. I do not know why thou didst stay after thou hadst put down

the ale. Thou didst know enough of me to know that thou didst run no

risk of not being paid.'

* * * * *

'Young gentleman,' said the huge, fat landlord, 'you are come at the

right time; dinner will be taken up in a few minutes, and such a dinner,'

he continued, rubbing his hands, 'as you will not see every day in these

times.'

'I am hot and dusty,' said I, 'and should wish to cool my hands and

face.'

'Jenny!' said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, 'show the

gentleman into number seven that he may wash his hands and face.'

'By no means,' said I, 'I am a person of primitive habits, and there is

nothing like the pump in weather like this.'

'Jenny!' said the landlord, with the same gravity as before, 'go with the

young gentleman to the pump in the back kitchen, and take a clean towel

along with you.'

Thereupon the rosy-faced clean-looking damsel went to a drawer, and

producing a large, thick, but snowy-white towel, she nodded to me to

follow her; whereupon I followed Jenny through a long passage into the

back kitchen.

And at the end of the back kitchen there stood a pump; and going to it I

placed my hands beneath the spout, and said, 'Pump, Jenny,' and Jenny

incontinently, without laying down the towel, pumped with one hand, and I

washed and cooled my heated hands.

And, when my hands were washed and cooled, I took off my neckcloth, and

unbuttoning my shirt collar, I placed my head beneath the spout of the

pump, and I said unto Jenny: 'Now, Jenny, lay down the towel, and pump

for your life.'

Thereupon Jenny, placing the towel on a linen horse, took the handle of

the pump with both hands and pumped over my head as handmaid had never

pumped before; so that the water poured in torrents from my head, my

face, and my hair down upon the brick floor.

And after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, I called out with a

half-strangled voice, 'Hold, Jenny!' and Jenny desisted. I stood for a

few moments to recover my breath, then, taking the towel which Jenny

proffered, I dried composedly my hands and head, my face and hair; then,

returning the towel to Jenny, I gave a deep sigh and said: 'Surely this

is one of the pleasant moments of life.'

* * * * * *

Becoming soon tired of walking about, without any particular aim, in so

great a heat, I determined to return to the inn, call for ale, and

deliberate on what I had best next do. So I returned and called for ale.

The ale which was brought was not ale which I am particularly fond of.

The ale which I am fond of is ale about nine or ten months old, somewhat

hard, tasting well of malt and little of the hop--ale such as farmers,

and noblemen too, of the good old time, when farmers' daughters did not

play on pianos and noblemen did not sell their game, were in the habit of

offering to both high and low, and drinking themselves. The ale which

was brought to me was thin washy stuff, which though it did not taste

much of hop, tasted still less of malt, made and sold by one Allsopp, who

I am told calls himself a squire and a gentleman--as he certainly may

with quite as much right as many a lord calls himself a nobleman and a

gentleman; for surely it is not a fraction more trumpery to make and sell

ale than to fatten and sell game. The ale of the Saxon squire, for

Allsopp is decidedly an old Saxon name, however unakin to the practice of

old Saxon squires the selling of ale may be, was drinkable, for it was

fresh, and the day, as I have said before, exceedingly hot; so I took

frequent draughts out of the shining metal tankard in which it was

brought, deliberating both whilst drinking, and in the intervals of

drinking, on what I had next best do.

* * * * *

Late in the afternoon we reached Medina del Campo, formerly one of the

principal cities of Spain, though at present an inconsiderable place.

Immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the former

grandeur of this 'city of the plain.' The great square or market place

is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive piazza, over which

rise black buildings of great antiquity. We found the town crowded with

people awaiting the fair, which was to be held in a day or two. We

experienced some difficulty in obtaining admission into the posada, which

was chiefly occupied by Catalans from Valladolid. These people not only

brought with them their merchandise, but their wives and children. Some

of them appeared to be people of the worst description: there was one in

particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct

was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of

a room which opened upon the court: he was continually venting horrible

and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan. The woman was remarkably

handsome, but robust, and seemingly as savage as himself; her

conversation likewise was as frightful as his own. Both seemed to be

under the influence of an incomprehensible fury. At last, upon some

observation from the woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from

his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however, interposed the palm

of her hand, which was much cut. He stood for a moment viewing the blood

trickling upon the ground, whilst she held up her wounded hand; then,

with an astounding oath, he hurried up the court to the Plaza. I went up

to the woman and said, 'What is the cause of this? I hope the ruffian

has not seriously injured you.' She turned her countenance upon me with

the glance of a demon, and at last with a sneer of contempt exclaimed,

'Carals, que es eso? Cannot a Catalan gentleman be conversing with his

lady upon their own private affairs without being interrupted by you?'

She then bound up her hand with a handkerchief, and going into the room

brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several things, as

if for the evening's repast, and then sat down on a stool. Presently

returned the Catalan, and without a word took his seat on the threshold;

then, as if nothing had occurred, the extraordinary couple commenced

eating and drinking, interlarding their meal with oaths and jests.

* * * * *

I had till then considered him a plain, uninformed old man, almost

simple, and as incapable of much emotion as a tortoise within its shell;

but he had become at once inspired: his eyes were replete with a bright

fire, and every muscle of his face was quivering. The little silk skull-

cap which he wore, according to the custom of the Catholic clergy, moved

up and down with his agitation; and I soon saw that I was in the presence

of one of those remarkable men who so frequently spring up in the bosom

of the Romish church, and who to a child-like simplicity unite immense

energy and power of mind--equally adapted to guide a scanty flock of

ignorant rustics in some obscure village in Italy or Spain, as to convert

millions of heathens on the shores of Japan, China, and Paraguay.

He was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a black

cloak of very coarse materials; nor were his other garments of superior

quality. This plainness, however, in the appearance of his outward man

was by no means the result of poverty; quite the contrary. The benefice

was a very plentiful one, and placed at his disposal annually a sum of at

least eight hundred dollars, of which the eighth part was more than

sufficient to defray the expenses of his house and himself; the rest was

devoted entirely to the purest acts of charity. He fed the hungry

wanderer, and despatched him singing on his way, with meat in his wallet

and a peseta in his purse; and his parishioners, when in need of money,

had only to repair to his study, and were sure of an immediate supply. He

was, indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither

expected nor wished to be returned. Though under the necessity of making

frequent journeys to Salamanca, he kept no mule, but contented himself

with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring miller. 'I once kept a

mule,' said he; 'but some years since it was removed without my

permission by a traveller whom I had housed for the night: for in that

alcove I keep two clean beds for the use of the wayfaring, and I shall be

very much pleased if yourself and friend will occupy them, and tarry with

me till the morning.'

* * * * *

'What mountains are those?' I inquired of a barber-surgeon who, mounted

like myself on a grey burra, joined me about noon, and proceeded in my

company for several leagues. 'They have many names, Caballero,' replied

the barber; 'according to the names of the neighbouring places, so they

are called. Yon portion of them is styled the Serrania of Plasencia; and

opposite to Madrid they are termed the Mountains of Guadarrama, from a

river of that name, which descends from them. They run a vast way,

Caballero, and separate the two kingdoms, for on the other side is Old

Castile. They are mighty mountains, and, though they generate much cold,

I take pleasure in looking at them, which is not to be wondered at,

seeing that I was born amongst them, though at present, for my sins, I

live in a village of the plain. Caballero, there is not another such

range in Spain; they have their secrets, too--their mysteries. Strange

tales are told of those hills, and of what they contain in their deep

recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may wander days and days

amongst them without coming to any termino. Many have lost themselves on

those hills, and have never again been heard of. Strange things are told

of them: it is said that in certain places there are deep pools and

lakes, in which dwell monsters, huge serpents as long as a pine tree, and

horses of the flood, which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage.

One thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west, in the heart of

those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow that only at mid-day

is the face of the sun to be descried from it. That valley lay

undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years; no person dreamed of its

existence. But at last, a long time ago, certain hunters entered it by

chance, and then what do you think they found, Caballero? They found a

small nation or tribe of unknown people, speaking an unknown language,

who, perhaps, had lived there since the creation of the world, without

intercourse with the rest of their fellow-creatures, and without knowing

that other beings besides themselves existed! Caballero, did you never

hear of the valley of the Batuecas? Many books have been written about

that valley and those people. Caballero, I am proud of yonder hills; and

were I independent, and without wife or children, I would purchase a

burra like that of your own--which I see is an excellent one, and far

superior to mine--and travel amongst them till I knew all their

mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things which they contain.'

* * * * *

We had scarcely been five minutes at the window, when we suddenly heard

the clattering of horses' feet hastening down the street called the Calle

de Carretas. The house in which we had stationed ourselves was, as I

have already observed, just opposite to the post-office, at the left of

which this street debouches from the north into the Puerta del Sol: as

the sounds became louder and louder, the cries of the crowd below

diminished, and a species of panic seemed to have fallen upon all: once

or twice, however, I could distinguish the words, 'Quesada! Quesada!'

The foot soldiers stood calm and motionless, but I observed that the

cavalry, with the young officer who commanded them, displayed both

confusion and fear, exchanging with each other some hurried words. All

of a sudden that part of the crowd which stood near the mouth of the

Calle de Carretas fell back in great disorder, leaving a considerable

space unoccupied, and the next moment Quesada, in complete general's

uniform, and mounted on a bright bay thoroughbred English horse, with a

drawn sword in his hand, dashed at full gallop into the area, in much the

same manner as I have seen a Manchegan bull rush into the amphitheatre

when the gates of his pen are suddenly flung open.

He was closely followed by two mounted officers, and at a short distance

by as many dragoons. In almost less time than is sufficient to relate

it, several individuals in the crowd were knocked down and lay sprawling

upon the ground, beneath the horses of Quesada and his two friends, for

as to the dragoons, they halted as soon as they had entered the Puerta

del Sol. It was a fine sight to see three men, by dint of valour and

good horsemanship, strike terror into at least as many thousands: I saw

Quesada spur his horse repeatedly into the dense masses of the crowd, and

then extricate himself in the most masterly manner. The rabble were

completely awed, and gave way, retiring by the Calle del Comercio and the

Calle del Alcala. All at once, Quesada singled out two nationals, who

were attempting to escape, and setting spurs to his horse, turned them in

a moment, and drove them in another direction, striking them in a

contemptuous manner with the flat of his sabre. He was crying out, 'Long

live the absolute queen!' when, just beneath me, amidst a portion of the

crowd which had still maintained its ground, perhaps from not having the

means of escaping, I saw a small gun glitter for a moment; then there was

a sharp report, and a bullet had nearly sent Quesada to his long account,

passing so near to the countenance of the general as to graze his hat. I

had an indistinct view for a moment of a well-known foraging cap just

about the spot from whence the gun had been discharged, then there was a

rush of the crowd, and the shooter, whoever he was, escaped discovery

amidst the confusion which arose.

As for Quesada, he seemed to treat the danger from which he had escaped

with the utmost contempt. He glared about him fiercely for a moment,

then leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like whipped hounds, he

went up to the young officer who commanded the cavalry, and who had been

active in raising the cry of the constitution, and to him he addressed a

few words with an air of stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before

him, and, probably in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of

the party, and rode away with a discomfited air; whereupon Quesada

dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the Casa de

Postas with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind.

This was the glorious day of Quesada's existence, his glorious and last

day. I call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never before

appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never lived to see

another sun set. No action of any conqueror or hero on record is to be

compared with this closing scene of the life of Quesada, for who, by his

single desperate courage and impetuosity, ever stopped a revolution in

full course? Quesada did: he stopped the revolution at Madrid for one

entire day, and brought back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge

city to perfect order and quiet. His burst into the Puerta del Sol was

the most tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed. I

admired so much the spirit of the 'brute bull' that I frequently, during

his wild onset, shouted, 'Viva Quesada!' for I wished him well.

* * * * *

I have heard talk of the pleasures of idleness, yet it is my own firm

belief that no one ever yet took pleasure in it. Mere idleness is the

most disagreeable state of existence, and both mind and body are

continually making efforts to escape from it. It has been said that

idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but mischief

itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum of idleness.

There are many tasks and occupations which a man is unwilling to perform,

but let no one think that he is therefore in love with idleness; he turns

to something which is more agreeable to his inclination, and doubtless

more suited to his nature; but he is not in love with idleness. A boy

may play the truant from school because he dislikes books and study; but,

depend upon it, he intends doing something the while--to go fishing, or

perhaps to take a walk; and who knows but that from such excursions both

his mind and body may derive more benefit than from books and school?

Many people go to sleep to escape from idleness; the Spaniards do; and,

according to the French account, John Bull, the 'squire, hangs himself in

the month of November; but the French, who are a very sensible people,

attribute the action, 'a une grande envie de se desennuyer;' he wishes to

be doing something say they, and having nothing better to do, he has

recourse to the cord.

* * * * *

'Well,' said the old man, 'I once saw the king of the vipers, and since

then--' 'The king of the vipers!' said I, interrupting him; 'have the

vipers a king?' 'As sure as we have,' said the old man, 'as sure as we

have King George to rule over us, have these reptiles a king to rule over

them.' 'And where did you see him?' said I. 'I will tell you,' said the

old man, 'though I don't like talking about the matter. It may be about

seven years ago that I happened to be far down yonder to the west, on the

other side of England, nearly two hundred miles from here, following my

business. It was a very sultry day, I remember, and I had been out

several hours catching creatures. It might be about three o'clock in the

afternoon, when I found myself on some heathy land near the sea, on the

ridge of a hill, the side of which, nearly as far down as the sea, was

heath; but on the top there was arable ground, which had been planted,

and from which the harvest had been gathered--oats or barley, I know not

which--but I remember that the ground was covered with stubble. Well,

about three o'clock, as I told you before, what with the heat of the day

and from having walked about for hours in a lazy way, I felt very tired;

so I determined to have a sleep, and I laid myself down, my head just on

the ridge of the hill, towards the field, and my body over the side down

amongst the heath; my bag, which was nearly filled with creatures, lay at

a little distance from my face; the creatures were struggling in it, I

remember, and I thought to myself, how much more comfortably off I was

than they; I was taking my ease on the nice open hill, cooled with the

breezes, whilst they were in the nasty close bag, coiling about one

another, and breaking their very hearts, all to no purpose; and I felt

quite comfortable and happy in the thought, and little by little closed

my eyes, and fell into the sweetest snooze that ever I was in in all my

life; and there I lay over the hill's side, with my head half in the

field, I don't know how long, all dead asleep. At last it seemed to me

that I heard a noise in my sleep, something like a thing moving, very

faint, however, far away; then it died, and then it came again upon my

ear as I slept, and now it appeared almost as if I heard crackle,

crackle; then it died again, or I became yet more dead asleep than

before, I know not which, but I certainly lay some time without hearing

it. All of a sudden I became awake, and there was I, on the ridge of the

hill, with my cheek on the ground towards the stubble, with a noise in my

ear like that of something moving towards me, amongst the stubble of the

field; well, I lay a moment or two listening to the noise, and then I

became frightened, for I did not like the noise at all, it sounded so

odd; so I rolled myself on my belly, and looked towards the stubble.

Mercy upon us! there was a huge snake, or rather a dreadful viper, for it

was all yellow and gold, moving towards me, bearing its head about a foot

and a half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its

outrageous belly. It might be about five yards off when I first saw it,

making straight towards me, child, as if it would devour me. I lay quite

still, for I was stupefied with horror, whilst the creature came still

nearer; and now it was nearly upon me, when it suddenly drew back a

little, and then--what do you think?--it lifted its head and chest high

in the air, and high over my face as I looked up, flickering at me with

its tongue as if it would fly at my face. Child, what I felt at that

moment I can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment for all the

sins I ever committed; and there we two were, I looking up at the viper,

and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me with its tongue. It

was only the kindness of God that saved me: all at once there was a loud

noise, the report of a gun, for a fowler was shooting at a covey of

birds, a little way off in the stubble. Whereupon the viper sunk its

head, and immediately made off over the ridge of the hill, down in the

direction of the sea. As it passed by me, however--and it passed close

by me--it hesitated a moment, as if it was doubtful whether it should not

seize me; it did not, however, but made off down the hill. It has often

struck me that he was angry with me, and came upon me unawares for

presuming to meddle with his people, as I have always been in the habit

of doing.'

'But,' said I, 'how do you know that it was the king of the vipers?'

'How do I know?' said the old man, 'who else should it be? There was as

much difference between it and other reptiles as between King George and

other people.'

'Is King George, then, different from other people?' I demanded.

'Of course,' said the old man; 'I have never seen him myself, but I have

heard people say that he is a ten times greater man than other folks;

indeed, it stands to reason that he must be different from the rest, else

people would not be so eager to see him. Do you think, child, that

people would be fools enough to run a matter of twenty or thirty miles to

see the king, provided King George--'

* * * * *

I sat upon the bank, at the bottom of the hill which slopes down from

'the Earl's Home'; my float was on the waters, and my back was towards

the old hall. I drew up many fish, small and great, which I took from

off the hook mechanically and flung upon the bank, for I was almost

unconscious of what I was about, for my mind was not with my fish. I was

thinking of my earlier years--of the Scottish crags and the heaths of

Ireland--and sometimes my mind would dwell on my studies--on the sonorous

stanzas of Dante, rising and falling like the waves of the sea--or would

strive to remember a couplet or two of poor Monsieur Boileau.

'Canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish out of

the water, and leaving them to gasp in the sun?' said a voice, clear and

sonorous as a bell. I started, and looked round. Close behind me stood

the tall figure of a man, dressed in raiment of quaint and singular

fashion, but of goodly materials. He was in the prime and vigour of

manhood; his features handsome and noble, but full of calmness and

benevolence; at least, I thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by

a hat of finest beaver, with broad drooping eaves.

'Surely that is a very cruel diversion in which thou indulgest, my young

friend,' he continued.

'I am sorry for it, if it be, sir,' said I, rising; 'but I do not think

it cruel to fish.'

'What are thy reasons for not thinking so?'

'Fishing is mentioned frequently in Scripture. Simon Peter was a

fisherman.'

'True; and Andrew and his brother. But thou forgettest: they did not

follow fishing as a diversion, as I fear thou doest. Thou readest the

Scriptures?'

'Sometimes.'

'Sometimes? not daily? that is to be regretted. What profession dost

thou make? I mean to what religious denomination dost thou belong, my

young friend?'

'Church.'

'It is a very good profession--there is much of Scripture contained in

its liturgy. Dost thou read aught besides the Scriptures?'

'Sometimes.'

'What dost thou read besides?'

'Greek, and Dante.'

'Indeed! then thou hast the advantage over myself; I can only read the

former. Well, I am rejoiced to find that thou hast other pursuits

besides thy fishing. Dost thou know Hebrew?'

'No.'

'Thou shouldst study it. Why dost thou not undertake the study?'

'I have no books.'

'I will lend thee books, if thou wish to undertake the study. I live

yonder at the hall, as perhaps thou knowest. I have a library there, in

which are many curious books, both in Greek and Hebrew, which I will show

to thee, whenever them mayest find it convenient to come and see me.

Farewell! I am glad to find that thou hast pursuits more satisfactory

than thy cruel fishing.'

And the man of peace departed, and left me on the bank of the stream.

Whether from the effect of his words, or from want of inclination to the

sport, I know not, but from that day I became less and less a

practitioner of that 'cruel fishing.'

* * * * *

Ah, that Irish! How frequently do circumstances, at first sight the most

trivial and unimportant, exercise a mighty and permanent influence on our

habits and pursuits!--how frequently is a stream turned aside from its

natural course by some little rock or knoll, causing it to make an abrupt

turn! On a wild road in Ireland I had heard Irish spoken for the first

time; and I was seized with a desire to learn Irish, the acquisition of

which, in my case, became the stepping-stone to other languages. I had

previously learnt Latin, or rather Lilly; but neither Latin nor Lilly

made me a philologist. I had frequently heard French and other

languages, but had felt little desire to become acquainted with them; and

what, it may be asked, was there connected with the Irish calculated to

recommend it to my attention?

First of all, and principally, I believe, the strangeness and singularity

of its tones; then there was something mysterious and uncommon associated

with its use. It was not a school language, to acquire which was

considered an imperative duty; no, no; nor was it a drawing-room

language, drawled out occasionally, in shreds and patches by the ladies

of generals and other great dignitaries, to the ineffable dismay of poor

officers' wives. Nothing of the kind; but a speech spoken in out-of-the-

way desolate places, and in cut-throat kens, where thirty ruffians, at

the sight of the king's minions, would spring up with brandished sticks

and an 'ubbubboo, like the blowing up of a powder-magazine.' Such were

the points connected with the Irish, which first awakened in my mind the

desire of acquiring it; and by acquiring it I became, as I have already

said, enamoured of languages. Having learnt one by choice, I speedily,

as the reader will perceive, learnt others, some of which were widely

different from Irish.

* * * * *

I said: 'Now, Murtagh, tit for tat; ye will be telling me one of the old

stories of Finn-ma-Coul.' 'Och, Shorsha! I haven't heart enough,' said

Murtagh. 'Thank you for your tale, but it makes me weep; it brings to my

mind Dungarvon times of old--I mean the times we were at school

together.' 'Cheer up, man,' said I, 'and let's have the story, and let

it be about Ma-Coul and the salmon and his thumb.' 'Well, you know Ma-

Coul was an exposed child, and came floating over the salt sea in a chest

which was cast ashore at Veintry Bay. In the corner of that bay was a

castle, where dwelt a giant and his wife, very respectable and dacent

people, and this giant, taking his morning walk along the bay, came to

the place where the child had been cast ashore in his box. Well, the

giant looked at the child, and being filled with compassion for his

exposed state, took the child up in his box, and carried him home to his

castle, where he and his wife, being dacent respectable people, as I

telled ye before, fostered the child and took care of him, till he became

old enough to go out to service and gain his livelihood, when they bound

him out apprentice to another giant, who lived in a castle up the

country, at some distance from the bay.

'This giant, whose name was Darmod David Odeen, was not a respectable

person at all, but a big ould wagabone. He was twice the size of the

other giant, who, though bigger than any man, was not a big giant; for,

as there are great and small men, so there are great and small giants--I

mean some are small when compared with the others. Well, Finn served

this giant a considerable time, doing all kinds of hard and unreasonable

service for him, and receiving all kinds of hard words, and many a hard

knock and kick to boot--sorrow befall the ould wagabone who could thus

ill treat a helpless foundling. It chanced that one day the giant caught

a salmon, near a salmon-leap upon his estate--for, though a big ould

blackguard, he was a person of considerable landed property, and high

sheriff for the county Cork. Well, the giant brings home the salmon by

the gills, and delivers it to Finn, telling him to roast it for the

giant's dinner; "but take care, ye young blackguard," he added, "that in

roasting it--and I expect ye to roast it well--you do not let a blister

come upon its nice satin skin, for if ye do, I will cut the head off your

shoulders." "Well," thinks Finn, "this is a hard task; however, as I

have done many hard tasks for him, I will try and do this too, though I

was never set to do anything yet half so difficult." So he prepared his

fire, and put his gridiron upon it, and lays the salmon fairly and softly

upon the gridiron, and then he roasts it, turning it from one side to the

other just in the nick of time, before the soft satin skin could be

blistered. However, on turning it over the eleventh time--and twelve

would have settled the business--he found he had delayed a little bit of

time too long in turning it over, and there was a small, tiny blister on

the soft outer skin. Well, Finn was in a mighty panic, remembering the

threats of the ould giant; however, he did not lose heart, but clapped

his thumb upon the blister in order to smooth it down. Now the salmon,

Shorsha, was nearly done, and the flesh thoroughly hot, so Finn's thumb

was scalt, and he, clapping it to his mouth, sucked it, in order to draw

out the pain, and in a moment--hubbuboo!--became imbued with all the

wisdom of the world.'

* * * * *

Here I interrupted the jockey.

'How singular,' said I, 'is the fall and debasement of words; you talk of

a gang, or set, of shorters; you are, perhaps, not aware that gang and

set were, a thousand years ago, only connected with the great and Divine;

they are ancient Norse words, which may be found in the heroic poems of

the north, and in the Edda, a collection of mythologic and heroic songs.

In these poems we read that such and such a king invaded Norway with a

gang of heroes; or so and so, for example, Erik Bloodaxe, was admitted to

the set of gods; but at present gang and set are merely applied to the

vilest of the vile, and the lowest of the low,--we say a gang of thieves

and shorters, or a set of authors. How touching is this debasement of

words in the course of time; it puts me in mind of the decay of old

houses and names. I have known a Mortimer who was a hedger and ditcher,

a Berners who was born in a workhouse, and a descendant of the De Burghs,

who bore the falcon, mending old kettles, and making horse and pony shoes

in a dingle.'

* * * * *

'And who is Jerry Grant?'

Did you never hear of him? that's strange; the whole country is talking

about him; he is a kind of outlaw, rebel, or robber, all three, I dare

say; there's a hundred pounds offered for his head.'

'And where does he live?'

'His proper home, they say, is in the Queen's County, where he has a

band; but he is a strange fellow, fond of wandering about by himself

amidst the bogs and mountains, and living in the old castles;

occasionally he quarters himself in the peasants' houses, who let him do

just as he pleases; he is free of his money, and often does them good

turns, and can be good-humoured enough, so they don't dislike him. Then

he is what they call a fairy man, a person in league with fairies and

spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural means, on which

account they hold him in great awe; he is, moreover, a mighty strong and

tall fellow. Bagg has seen him.'

'Has he?'

'Yes! and felt him; he too is a strange one. A few days ago he was told

that Grant had been seen hovering about an old castle some two miles off

in the bog; so one afternoon what does he do but, without saying a word

to me--for which, by-the-bye, I ought to put him under arrest, though

what I should do without Bagg I have no idea whatever--what does he do

but walk off to the castle, intending, as I suppose, to pay a visit to

Jerry. He had some difficulty in getting there on account of the turf-

holes in the bog, which he was not accustomed to; however, thither at

last he got and went in. It was a strange lonesome place, he says, and

he did not much like the look of it; however, in he went, and searched

about from the bottom to the top and down again, but could find no one;

he shouted and hallooed, but nobody answered, save the rooks and choughs,

which started up in great numbers. "I have lost my trouble," said Bagg,

and left the castle. It was now late in the afternoon, near sunset, when

about half way over the bog he met a man--'

'And that man was--'

'Jerry Grant! there's no doubt of it. Bagg says it was the most sudden

thing in the world. He was moving along, making the best of his way,

thinking of nothing at all save a public-house at Swanton Morley, which

he intends to take when he gets home and the regiment is disbanded--though

I hope that will not be for some time yet: he had just leaped a

turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the distance of about six yards

before him, he saw a fellow coming straight towards him. Bagg says that

he stopped short, as suddenly as if he had heard the word halt, when

marching at double-quick time. It was quite a surprise, he says, and he

can't imagine how the fellow was so close upon him before he was aware.

He was an immense tall fellow--Bagg thinks at least two inches taller

than himself--very well dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, for all

the world like a squire when going out hunting. Bagg, however, saw at

once that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a moment.

"Good evening to ye, sodger," says the fellow, stepping close up to Bagg,

and staring him in the face. "Good evening to you, sir! I hope you are

well," says Bagg. "You are looking after some one?" says the fellow.

"Just so, sir," says Bagg, and forthwith seized him by the collar; the

man laughed, Bagg says it was such a strange awkward laugh. "Do you know

whom you have got hold of, sodger?" said he. "I believe I do, sir," said

Bagg, "and in that belief will hold you fast in the name of King George,

and the quarter sessions;" the next moment he was sprawling with his

heels in the air. Bagg says there was nothing remarkable in that; he was

only flung by a kind of wrestling trick, which he could easily have

baffled, had he been aware of it. "You will not do that again, sir,"

said he, as he got up and put himself on his guard. The fellow laughed

again more strangely and awkwardly than before; then, bending his body

and moving his head from one side to the other, as a cat does before she

springs, and crying out, "Here's for ye, sodger!" he made a dart at Bagg,

rushing in with his head foremost. "That will do, sir," says Bagg, and

drawing himself back he put in a left-handed blow with all the force of

his body and arm, just over the fellow's right eye--Bagg is a left-handed

hitter, you must know--and it was a blow of that kind which won him his

famous battle at Edinburgh with the big Highland sergeant. Bagg says

that he was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when he saw

the fellow reel, fling out his arms, and fall to the ground. "And now,

sir," said he, "I'll make bold to hand you over to the quarter sessions,

and, if there is a hundred pounds for taking you, who has more right to

it than myself?" So he went forward, but ere he could lay hold of his

man the other was again on his legs, and was prepared to renew the

combat. They grappled each other--Bagg says he had not much fear of the

result, as he now felt himself the best man, the other seeming half

stunned with the blow--but just then there came on a blast, a horrible

roaring wind bearing night upon its wings, snow, and sleet, and hail.

Bagg says he had the fellow by the throat quite fast, as he thought, but

suddenly he became bewildered, and knew not where he was; and the man

seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more and more,

and the night poured down darker and darker, the snow and the sleet

thicker and more blinding. "Lord have mercy upon us!" said Bagg.

Myself. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg got home alive.

John. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the fling he got

was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling trick. But

with respect to the storm which rose up just in time to save the fellow,

he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something Irish and

supernatural.

Myself. I dare say he's right. I have read of witchcraft in the Bible.

John. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he says

that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he could

master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. He says that a

hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for he wishes

to take an inn at Swanton Morley, keep a cock-pit, and live respectably.

Myself. He is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling brother, for I

must go back through the bog to Templemore.

* * * * *

'Is it a long time since you have seen any of these Gwyddeliaid [Irish]?'

'About two months, sir, and then a terrible fright they caused me.'

'How was that?'

'I will tell you, sir; I had been across the Berwyn to carry home a piece

of weaving work to a person who employs me. It was night as I returned,

and when I was about halfway down the hill, at a place which is called

Allt Paddy, because the Gwyddelod are in the habit of taking up their

quarters there, I came upon a gang of them, who had come there and camped

and lighted their fire whilst I was on the other side of the hill. There

were nearly twenty of them, men and women, and amongst the rest was a man

standing naked in a tub of water with two women stroking him down with

clouts. He was a large fierce-looking fellow and his body, on which the

flame of the fire glittered, was nearly covered with red hair. I never

saw such a sight. As I passed they glared at me and talked violently in

their Paddy Gwyddel, but did not offer to molest me. I hastened down the

hill, and right glad I was when I found myself safe and sound at my house

in Llangollen, with my money in my pocket, for I had several shillings

there, which the man across the hill had paid me for the work which I had

done.'

* * * * *

Now, a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not. Let us suppose the

best of scholars, a schoolmaster, for example, for I suppose you will

admit that no one can be higher in scholarship than a schoolmaster; do

you call his a pleasant life? I don't; we should call him a

school-slave, rather than a schoolmaster. Only conceive him in blessed

weather like this, in his close school, teaching children to write in

copy-books, 'Evil communication corrupts good manners.' . . . Only

conceive him, I say, drudging in such guise from morning till night,

without any rational enjoyment but to beat the children. Would you

compare such a dog's life as that with your own--the happiest under

heaven--true Eden life, as the Germans would say,--pitching your tent

under the pleasant hedgerow, listening to the song of the feathered

tribes, collecting all the leaky kettles in the neighbourhood, soldering

and joining, earning your honest bread by the wholesome sweat of your

brow--making ten holes--hey, what's this? what's the man crying for?

* * * * *

'Did you speak, Don Jorge?' demanded the archbishop.

'That is a fine brilliant on your lordship's hand,' said I.

'You are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge,' said the archbishop, his

features brightening up; 'vaya! so am I; they are pretty things. Do you

understand them?'

'I do,' said I, 'and I never saw a finer brilliant than your own, one

excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a Tartar Khan. He did

not bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the frontlet of his

horse, where it shone like a star. He called it Daoud Scharr, which,

being interpreted, meaneth light of war.'

'Vaya!' said the archbishop, 'how very extraordinary! I am glad you are

fond of brilliants, Don Jorge. Speaking of horses, reminds me that I

have frequently seen you on horseback. Vaya! how you ride! It is

dangerous to be in your way.'

'Is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?'

'By no means, Don Jorge; I do not like horses. It is not the practice of

the Church to ride on horseback. We prefer mules; they are the quieter

animals. I fear horses, they kick so violently.'

'The kick of a horse is death,' said I, 'if it touches a vital part. I

am not, however, of your lordship's opinion with respect to mules: a good

ginete may retain his seat on a horse however vicious, but a mule--vaya!

when a false mule tira par detras, I do not believe that the Father of

the Church himself could keep the saddle a moment, however sharp his

bit.'

* * * * *

Francis Ardry and myself dined together, and after dinner partook of a

bottle of the best port which the inn afforded. After a few glasses, we

had a great deal of conversation; I again brought the subject of marriage

and love, divine love, upon the carpet, but Francis almost immediately

begged me to drop it; and on my having the delicacy to comply, he

reverted to dog-fighting, on which he talked well and learnedly; amongst

other things, he said that it was a princely sport of great antiquity,

and quoted from Quintus Curtius to prove that the princes of India must

have been of the fancy, they having, according to that author, treated

Alexander to a fight between certain dogs and a lion. Becoming,

notwithstanding my friend's eloquence and learning, somewhat tired of the

subject, I began to talk about Alexander. Francis Ardry said he was one

of the two great men whom the world has produced, the other being

Napoleon; I replied that I believed Tamerlane was a greater man than

either; but Francis Ardry knew nothing of Tamerlane, save what he had

gathered from the play of Timour the Tartar. 'No,' said he, 'Alexander

and Napoleon are the great men of the world, their names are known

everywhere. Alexander has been dead upwards of two too thousand years,

but the very English bumpkins sometimes christen their boys by the name

of Alexander--can there be a greater evidence of his greatness? As for

Napoleon, there are some parts of India in which his bust is worshipped.'

Wishing to make up a triumvirate, I mentioned the name of Wellington, to

which Francis Ardry merely said, 'bah!' and resumed the subject of dog-

fighting.

* * * * *

After a slight breakfast I mounted the horse, which, decked out in his

borrowed finery, really looked better by a large sum of money than on any

former occasion. Making my way out of the yard of the inn, I was

instantly in the principal street of the town, up and down which an

immense number of horses were being exhibited, some led, and others with

riders. 'A wonderful small quantity of good horses in the fair this

time!' I heard a stout, jockey-looking individual say, who was staring up

the street with his side towards me. 'Halloo, young fellow!' said he, a

few moments after I had passed, 'whose horse is that? Stop! I want to

look at him!' Though confident that he was addressing himself to me, I

took no notice, remembering the advice of the ostler, and proceeded up

the street. My horse possessed a good walking step; but walking, as the

reader knows, was not his best pace, which was the long trot, at which I

could not well exercise him in the street, on account of the crowd of men

and animals; however, as he walked along, I could easily perceive that he

attracted no slight attention amongst those who, by their jockey dress

and general appearance, I imagined to be connoisseurs; I heard various

calls to stop, to none of which I paid the slightest attention. In a few

minutes I found myself out of the town, when, turning round for the

purpose of returning, I found I had been followed by several of the

connoisseur-looking individuals, whom I had observed in the fair. 'Now

would be the time for a display,' thought I; and looking around me I

observed two five-barred gates, one on each side of the road, and

fronting each other. Turning my horse's head to one, I pressed my heels

to his sides, loosened the reins, and gave an encouraging cry, whereupon

the animal cleared the gate in a twinkling. Before he had advanced ten

yards in the field to which the gate opened, I had turned him round, and

again giving him cry and rein, I caused him to leap back again into the

road, and still allowing him head, I made him leap the other gate; and

forthwith turning him round, I caused him to leap once more into the

road, where he stood proudly tossing his head, as much as to say, 'What

more?' 'A fine horse! a capital horse!' said several of the

connoisseurs. 'What do you ask for him?' 'Too much for any of you to

pay,' said I. 'A horse like this is intended for other kind of customers

than any of you.' 'How do you know that?' said one; the very same person

whom I had heard complaining in the street of the paucity of good horses

in the fair. 'Come, let us know what you ask for him?' 'A hundred and

fifty pounds,' said I; 'neither more nor less.' 'Do you call that a

great price?' said the man. 'Why, I thought you would have asked double

that amount! You do yourself injustice, young man.' 'Perhaps I do,'

said I, 'but that's my affair; I do not choose to take more.' 'I wish

you would let me get into the saddle,' said the man; 'the horse knows

you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but I should like to see how

he would move under me, who am a stranger. Will you let me get into the

saddle, young man?' 'No,' said I; 'I will not let you get into the

saddle.' 'Why not?' said the man. 'Lest you should be a Yorkshireman,'

said I, 'and should run away with the horse.' 'Yorkshire?' said the man;

'I am from Suffolk, silly Suffolk, so you need not be afraid of my

running away with the horse.' 'Oh! if that's the case,' said I, 'I

should be afraid that the horse would run away with you; so I will by no

means let you mount.' 'Will you let me look in his mouth?' said the man.

'If you please,' said I; 'but I tell you, he's apt to bite.' 'He can

scarcely be a worse bite than his master,' said the man, looking into the

horse's mouth; 'he's four off. I say, young man, will you warrant this

horse?' 'No,' said I; 'I never warrant horses; the horses that I ride

can always warrant themselves.' 'I wish you would let me speak a word to

you,' said he. 'Just come aside. It's a nice horse,' said he in a half-

whisper, after I had ridden a few paces aside with him. 'It's a nice

horse,' said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and

looking up in my face, 'and I think I can find you a customer. If you

would take a hundred, I think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent

me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make

an honest penny.' 'Well,' said I, 'and could he not make an honest

penny, and yet give me the price I ask?' 'Why,' said the go-between, 'a

hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so;

and my lord, do you see--' 'I see no reason at all,' said I, 'why I

should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his

lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make

an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the

disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth as

counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which I should

never do; but I can't be wasting my time here. I am going back to the ---

, where, if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you

must come within the next half-hour, or I shall probably not feel

disposed to sell him at all.' 'Another word, young man,' said the

jockey, but without staying to hear what he had to say, I put the horse

to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well

as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where,

dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle.

* * * * *

I did not like reviewing at all--it was not to my taste; it was not in my

way; I liked it far less than translating the publisher's philosophy, for

that was something in the line of one whom a competent judge had surnamed

'Lavengro.' I never could understand why reviews were instituted; works

of merit do not require to be reviewed, they can speak for themselves,

and require no praising; works of no merit at all will die of themselves,

they require no killing.

* * * * *

A lad, who twenty tongues can talk,

And sixty miles a day can walk;

Drink at a draught a pint of rum,

And then be neither sick nor dumb;

Can tune a song, and make a verse,

And deeds of northern kings rehearse;

Who never will forsake his friend,

While he his bony fist can bend;

And, though averse to brawl and strife,

Will fight a Dutchman with a knife,

O that is just the lad for me,

And such is honest six-foot three.

A braver being ne'er had birth

Since God first kneaded man from earth;

O, I have come to know him well,

As Ferroe's blacken'd rocks can tell.

Who was it did, at Suderoe,

The deed no other dared to do?

Who was it, when the Boff had burst,

And whelm'd me in its womb accurst,

Who was it dashed amid the wave,

With frantic zeal, my life to save?

Who was it flung the rope to me?

O, who, but honest six-foot three!

Who was it taught my willing tongue,

The songs that Braga fram'd and sung?

Who was it op'd to me the store

Of dark unearthly Runic lore,

And taught me to beguile my time

With Denmark's aged and witching rhyme;

To rest in thought in Elvir shades,

And hear the song of fairy maids;

Or climb the top of Dovrefeld,

Where magic knights their muster held:

Who was it did all this for me?

O, who, but honest six-foot three!

Wherever fate shall bid me roam,

Far, far from social joy and home;

'Mid burning Afric's desert sands;

Or wild Kamschatka's frozen lands;

Bit by the poison-loaded breeze

Or blasts which clog with ice the seas;

In lowly cot or lordly hall,

In beggar's rags or robes of pall,

'Mong robber-bands or honest men,

In crowded town or forest den,

I never will unmindful be

Of what I owe to six-foot three.

That form which moves with giant grace--

That wild, tho' not unhandsome face;

That voice which sometimes in its tone

Is softer than the wood-dove's moan,

At others, louder than the storm

Which beats the side of old Cairn Gorm;

That hand, as white as falling snow,

Which yet can fell the stoutest foe;

And, last of all, that noble heart,

Which ne'er from honour's path would start

Shall never be forgot by me--

So farewell, honest six-foot three.

* * * * *

'He is a great fool who is ever dishonest in England. Any person who has

any natural gift, and everybody has some natural gift, is sure of finding

encouragement in this noble country of ours, provided he will but exhibit

it. I had not walked more than three miles before I came to a

wonderfully high church steeple, which stood close by the road; I looked

at the steeple, and going to a heap of smooth pebbles which lay by the

roadside, I took up some, and then went into the churchyard, and placing

myself just below the tower, my right foot resting on a ledge, about two

feet from the ground, I, with my left hand--being a left-handed person,

do you see--flung or chucked up a stone, which lighting on the top of the

steeple, which was at least a hundred and fifty feet high, did there

remain. After repeating this feat two or three times, I "hulled" up a

stone, which went clean over the tower, and then one, my right foot still

on the ledge, which rising at least five yards above the steeple, did

fall down just at my feet. Without knowing it, I was showing off my gift

to others besides myself, doing what, perhaps, not five men in England

could do. Two men, who were passing by, stopped and looked at my

proceedings, and when I had done flinging came into the churchyard, and,

after paying me a compliment on what they had seen me do, proposed that I

should join company with them; I asked them who they were, and they told

me. The one was Hopping Ned, and the other Biting Giles. Both had their

gifts, by which they got their livelihood; Ned could hop a hundred yards

with any man in England, and Giles could lift up with his teeth any

dresser or kitchen table in the country, and, standing erect, hold it

dangling in his jaws. There's many a big oak table and dresser in

certain districts of England, which bear the marks of Giles's teeth; and

I make no doubt that, a hundred or two years hence, there'll be strange

stories about those marks, and that people will point them out as a proof

that there were giants in bygone times, and that many a dentist will

moralise on the decays which human teeth have undergone.

'They wanted me to go about with them, and exhibit my gift occasionally

as they did theirs, promising that the money that was got by the

exhibitions should be honestly divided. I consented, and we set off

together, and that evening coming to a village, and putting up at the

alehouse, all the grand folks of the village being there smoking their

pipes, we contrived to introduce the subject of hopping--the upshot being

that Ned hopped against the schoolmaster for a pound, and beat him

hollow; shortly after, Giles, for a wager, took up the kitchen table in

his jaws, though he had to pay a shilling to the landlady for the marks

he left, whose grandchildren will perhaps get money by exhibiting them.

As for myself, I did nothing that day, but the next, on which my

companions did nothing, I showed off at hulling stones against a cripple,

the crack man for stone throwing, of a small town, a few miles farther

on. Bets were made to the tune of some pounds, I contrived to beat the

cripple, and just contrived; for to do him justice, I must acknowledge he

was a first-rate hand at stones, though he had a game hip, and went

sideways; his head, when he walked--if his movements could be called

walking--not being above three feet above the ground. So we travelled, I

and my companions, showing off our gifts, Giles and I occasionally for a

gathering, but Ned never hopping unless against somebody for a wager. We

lived honestly and comfortably, making no little money by our natural

endowments, and were known over a great part of England as 'Hopping Ned,'

'Biting Giles,' and 'Hull over the Head Jack,' which was my name, it

being the blackguard fashion of the English, do you see, to--'

Here I interrupted the jockey. 'You may call it a blackguard fashion,'

said I, 'and I dare say it is, or it would scarcely be English; but it is

an immensely ancient one, and is handed down to us from our northern

ancestry, especially the Danes, who were in the habit of giving people

surnames, or rather nicknames, from some quality of body or mind, but

generally from some disadvantageous peculiarity of feature; for there is

no denying that the English, Norse, or whatever we may please to call

them, are an envious, depreciatory set of people, who not only give their

poor comrades contemptuous surnames, but their great people also. They

didn't call you the matchless Hurler, because, by doing so, they would

have paid you a compliment, but Hull over the Head Jack, as much as to

say that after all you were a scrub: so, in ancient time, instead of

calling Regner the great conqueror, the Nation Tamer, they surnamed him

Lodbrog, which signifies Rough or Hairy Breeks--lod or loddin signifying

rough or hairy; and instead of complimenting Halgerdr, the wife of Gunnar

of Hlitharend, the great champion of Iceland, upon her majestic presence,

by calling her Halgerdr, the stately or tall, what must they do but term

her Ha-brokr, or High-breeks, it being the fashion in old times for

Northern ladies to wear breeks, or breeches, which English ladies of the

present day never think of doing; and just, as of old, they called

Halgerdr Longbreeks, so this very day a fellow of Horncastle called, in

my hearing, our noble-looking Hungarian friend here, Long-stockings. Oh,

I could give you a hundred instances, both ancient and modern, of this

unseemly propensity of our illustrious race, though I will only trouble

you with a few more ancient ones; they not only nicknamed Regner, but his

sons also, who were all kings, and distinguished men; one, whose name was

Biorn, they nicknamed Ironsides; another, Sigurd, Snake in the Eye;

another, White Sark, or White Shirt--I wonder they did not tall him Dirty

Shirt; and Ivarr, another, who was king of Northumberland, they called

Beinlausi, or the Legless, because he was spindle-shanked, had no sap in

his bones, and consequently no children. He was a great king, it is

true, and very wise, nevertheless his blackguard countrymen, always

averse, as their descendants are, to give credit to anybody, for any

valuable quality or possession, must needs lay hold, do you see--'

But before I could say any more, the jockey, having laid down his pipe,

rose, and having taken off his coat, advanced towards me.

* * * * *

I informed the landlord that he was right in supposing that I came for

the horse, but that, before I paid for him, I should wish to prove his

capabilities. 'With all my heart,' said the landlord. 'You shall mount

him this moment.' Then going into the stable, he saddled and bridled the

horse, and presently brought him out before the door. I mounted him, Mr.

Petulengro putting a heavy whip into my hand, and saying a few words to

me in his own mysterious language. 'The horse wants no whip,' said the

landlord. 'Hold your tongue, daddy,' said Mr. Petulengro, 'my pal knows

quite well what to do with the whip, he's not going to beat the horse

with it.' About four hundred yards from the house there was a hill, to

the foot of which the road ran almost on a perfect level; towards the

foot of this hill, I trotted the horse, who set off at a long, swift

pace, seemingly at the rate of about sixteen miles an hour. On reaching

the foot of the hill, I wheeled the animal found, and trotted him towards

the house--the horse sped faster than before. Ere he had advanced a

hundred yards, I took off my hat, in obedience to the advice which Mr.

Petulengro had given me, in his own language, and holding it over the

horse's head, commenced drumming on the crown with the knob of the whip;

the horse gave a slight start, but instantly recovering himself,

continued his trot till he arrived at the door of the public-house,

amidst the acclamations of the company, who had all rushed out of the

house to be spectators of what was going on. 'I see now what you wanted

the whip for,' said the landlord, 'and sure enough, that drumming on your

hat was no bad way of learning whether the horse was quiet or not. Well,

did you ever see a more quiet horse, or a better trotter?' 'My cob shall

trot against him,' said a fellow, dressed in velveteen, mounted on a low

powerful-looking animal. 'My cob shall trot against him to the hill and

back again--come on!' We both started; the cob kept up gallantly against

the horse for about half the way to the hill, when he began to lose

ground; at the foot of the hill he was about fifteen yards behind.

Whereupon I turned slowly and waited for him. We then set off towards

the house, but now the cob had no chance, being at least twenty yards

behind when I reached the door. This running of horses, the wild uncouth

forms around me, and the ale and beer which were being guzzled from pots

and flagons, put me wonderfully in mind of the ancient horse-races of the

heathen north. I almost imagined myself Gunnar of Hlitharend at the race

of ---.

'Are you satisfied?' said the landlord. 'Didn't you tell me that he

could leap?' I demanded. 'I am told he can,' said the landlord; 'but I

can't consent that he should be tried in that way, as he might be

damaged.' 'That's right!' said Mr. Petulengro, 'don't trust my pal to

leap that horse, he'll merely fling him down, and break his neck and his

own. There's a better man than he close by; let him get on his back and

leap him.' 'You mean yourself, I suppose,' said the landlord. 'Well, I

call that talking modestly, and nothing becomes a young man more than

modesty.' 'It a'n't I, daddy,' said Mr. Petulengro. 'Here's the man,'

said he, pointing to Tawno. 'Here's the horse-leaper of the world!' 'You

mean the horse-back breaker,' said the landlord. 'That big fellow would

break down my cousin's horse.' 'Why, he weighs only sixteen stone,' said

Mr. Petulengro. 'And his sixteen stone, with his way of handling a

horse, does not press so much as any other one's thirteen. Only let him

get on the horse's back, and you'll see what he can do!' 'No,' said the

landlord, 'it won't do.' Whereupon Mr. Petulengro became very much

excited, and pulling out a handful of money, said: 'I'll tell you what,

I'll forfeit these guineas, if my black pal there does the horse any kind

of damage; duck me in the horse-pond if I don't.' 'Well,' said the

landlord, 'for the sport of the thing I consent, so let your white pal

get down, and your black pal mount as soon as he pleases.' I felt rather

mortified at Mr. Petulengro's interference, and showed no disposition to

quit my seat; whereupon he came up to me and said: 'Now, brother, do get

out of the saddle--you are no bad hand at trotting, I am willing to

acknowledge that; but at leaping a horse there is no one like Tawno. Let

every dog be praised for his own gift. You have been showing off in your

line for the last half-hour; now do give Tawno a chance of exhibiting a

little; poor fellow, he hasn't often a chance of exhibiting, as his wife

keeps him so much in sight.' Not wishing to appear desirous of

engrossing the public attention, and feeling rather desirous to see how

Tawno, of whose exploits in leaping horses I had frequently heard, would

acquit himself in the affair, I at length dismounted, and Tawno, at a

bound, leaped into the saddle, where he really looked like Gunnar of

Hlitharend, save and except the complexion of Gunnar was florid, whereas

that of Tawno was of nearly Mulatto darkness; and that all Tawno's

features were cast in the Grecian model, whereas Gunnar had a snub nose.

'There's a leaping-bar behind the house,' said the landlord. 'Leaping-

bar!' said Mr. Petulengro scornfully. 'Do you think my black pal ever

rides at a leaping-bar? No more than at a windle-straw. Leap over that

meadow wall, Tawno.' Just past the house, in the direction in which I

had been trotting, was a wall about four feet high, beyond which was a

small meadow. Tawno rode the horse gently up to the wall, permitted him

to look over, then backed him for about ten yards, and pressing his

calves against the horse's sides, he loosed the rein, and the horse

launching forward, took the leap in gallant style. 'Well done, man and

horse!' said Mr. Petulengro; 'now come back, Tawno.' The leap from the

side of the meadow was, however, somewhat higher; and the horse, when

pushed at it, at first turned away; whereupon Tawno backed him to a

greater distance, pushed the horse to a full gallop, giving a wild cry;

whereupon the horse again took the wall, slightly grazing one of his legs

against it. 'A near thing,' said the landlord, 'but a good leap. Now,

no more leaping, so long as I have control over the animal.' The horse

was then led back to the stable; and the landlord, myself and companions

going into the bar, I paid down the money for the horse.

* * * * *

'When you are a gentleman,' said he, after a pause, 'the first thing you

must think about is to provide yourself with a good horse for your own

particular riding; you will perhaps keep a coach and pair, but they will

be less your own than your lady's, should you have one, and your young

gentry, should you have any; or, if you have neither, for madam, your

housekeeper, and the upper female servants, so you need trouble your head

less about them, though, of course, you would not like to pay away your

money for screws; but be sure you get a good horse for your own riding;

and that you may have a good chance of having a good one, buy one that's

young and has plenty of belly--a little more than the one has which you

now have, though you are not yet a gentleman; you will, of course, look

to his head, his withers, legs and other points, but never buy a horse at

any price that has not plenty of belly; no horse that has not belly is

ever a good feeder, and a horse that a'n't a good feeder, can't be a good

horse; never buy a horse that is drawn up in the belly behind; a horse of

that description can't feed, and can never carry sixteen stone.

'When you have got such a horse be proud of it--as I dare say you are of

the one you have now--and wherever you go swear there a'n't another to

match it in the country, and if anybody gives you the lie, take him by

the nose and tweak it off, just as you would do if anybody were to speak

ill of your lady, or, for want of her, of your housekeeper. Take care of

your horse, as you would of the apple of your eye--I am sure I would if I

were a gentleman, which I don't ever expect to be, and hardly wish,

seeing as how I am sixty-nine, and am rather too old to ride--yes,

cherish and take care of your horse as perhaps the best friend you have

in the world; for, after all, who will carry you through thick and thin

as your horse will? not your gentlemen friends, I warrant, nor your

housekeeper, nor your upper servants, male or female; perhaps your lady

would, that is, if she is a whopper, and one of the right sort; the

others would be more likely to take up mud and pelt you with it, provided

they saw you in trouble, than to help you. So take care of your horse,

and feed him every day with your own hands; give him three-quarters of a

peck of corn each day, mixed up with a little hay-chaff, and allow him

besides one hundredweight of hay in the course of a week; some say that

the hay should be hardland hay, because it is wholesomest, but I say, let

it be clover hay, because the horse likes it best; give him through

summer and winter, once a week, a pailful of bran mash, cold in summer

and in winter hot; ride him gently about the neighbourhood every day, by

which means you will give exercise to yourself and horse, and, moreover,

have the satisfaction of exhibiting yourself and your horse to advantage,

and hearing, perhaps, the men say what a fine horse, and the ladies

saying what a fine man: never let your groom mount your horse, as it is

ten to one, if you do, your groom will be wishing to show off before

company, and will fling your horse down. I was groom to a gemman before

I went to the inn at Hounslow, and flung him a horse down worth ninety

guineas, by endeavouring to show off before some ladies that I met on the

road. Turn your horse out to grass throughout May and the first part of

June, for then the grass is sweetest, and the flies don't sting so bad as

they do later in summer; afterwards merely turn him out occasionally in

the swale of the morn and the evening; after September the grass is good

for little, lash and sour at best; every horse should go out to grass, if

not his blood becomes full of greasy humours, and his wind is apt to

become affected, but he ought to be kept as much as possible from the

heat and flies, always got up at night, and never turned out late in the

year--Lord! if I had always such a nice attentive person to listen to me

as you are, I could go on talking about 'orses to the end of time.'

* * * * *

I was bidding him farewell, when he hemmed once or twice, and said, that

as he did not live far off, he hoped that I would go with him and taste

some of his mead. As I had never tasted mead, of which I had frequently

read in the compositions of the Welsh bards, and, moreover, felt rather

thirsty from the heat of the day, I told him that I should have great

pleasure in attending him. Whereupon, turning off together, we proceeded

about half a mile, sometimes between stone walls, and at other times

hedges, till we reached a small hamlet, through which we passed, and

presently came to a very pretty cottage, delightfully situated within a

garden, surrounded by a hedge of woodbines. Opening a gate at one corner

of the garden he led the way to a large shed, which stood partly behind

the cottage, which he said was his stable; thereupon he dismounted and

led his donkey into the shed, which was without stalls, but had a long

rack and manger. On one side he tied his donkey, after taking off her

caparisons, and I followed his example, tying my horse at the other side

with a rope halter which he gave me; he then asked me to come in and

taste his mead, but I told him that I must attend to the comfort of my

horse first, and forthwith, taking a wisp of straw, rubbed him carefully

down. Then taking a pailful of clear water which stood in the shed, I

allowed the horse to drink about half a pint; and then turning to the old

man, who all the time had stood by looking at my proceedings, I asked him

whether he had any oats? 'I have all kinds of grain,' he replied; and,

going out, he presently returned with two measures, one a large and the

other a small one, both filled with oats, mixed with a few beans, and

handing the large one to me for the horse, he emptied the other before

the donkey, who, before she began to despatch it turned her nose to her

master's face, and fairly kissed him. Having given my horse his portion,

I told the old man that I was ready to taste his mead as soon as he

pleased, whereupon he ushered me into his cottage, where, making me sit

down by a deal table in a neatly sanded kitchen, he produced from an old-

fashioned closet a bottle, holding about a quart, and a couple of cups,

which might each contain about half a pint, then opening the bottle and

filling the cups with a brown-coloured liquor, he handed one to me, and

taking a seat opposite to me he lifted the other, nodded, and saying to

me: 'Health and welcome,' placed it to his lips and drank.

* * * * *

At the dead hour of night, it might be about two, I was awakened from

sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below that in

which I slept. I knew the cry, it was the cry of my mother, and I also

knew its import; yet I made no effort to rise, for I was for the moment

paralysed. Again the cry sounded, yet still I lay motionless--the

stupidity of horror was upon me. A third time, and it was then that, by

a violent effort bursting the spell which appeared to bind me, I sprang

from the bed and rushed downstairs. My mother was running wildly about

the room; she had awoke and found my father senseless in the bed by her

side. I essayed to raise him, and after a few efforts supported him in

the bed in a sitting posture. My brother now rushed in, and snatching up

a light that was burning, he held it to my father's face. 'The surgeon,

the surgeon!' he cried; then dropping the light, he ran out of the room

followed by my mother; I remained alone, supporting the senseless form of

my father; the light had been extinguished by the fall, and an almost

total darkness reigned in the room. The form pressed heavily against my

bosom--at last methought it moved. Yes, I was light, there was a heaving

of the breast, and then a gasping. Were those words which I heard? Yes,

they were words, low and indistinct at first, and then audible. The mind

of the dying man was reverting to former scenes. I heard him mention

names which I had often heard him mention before. It was an awful

moment; I felt stupefied, but I still contrived to support my dying

father. There was a pause, again my father spoke: I heard him speak of

Minden, and of Meredith, the old Minden sergeant, and then he uttered

another name, which at one period of his life was much on his lips, the

name of --- but this is a solemn moment! There was a deep gasp: I shook,

and thought all was over; but I was mistaken--my father moved and revived

for a moment; he supported himself in bed without my assistance. I make

no doubt that for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it was then

that, clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, distinctly--it

was the name of Christ. With that name upon his lips, the brave old

soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped

yielded up his soul.

* * * * *

I should say that I scarcely walked less than thirty miles about the big

city on the day of my first arrival. Night came on, but still I was

walking about, my eyes wide open, and admiring everything that presented

itself to them. Everything was new to me, for everything is different in

London from what it is elsewhere--the people, their language, the horses,

the tout ensemble--even the stones of London are different from others--at

least it appeared to me that I had never walked with the same ease and

facility on the flag stones of a country town as on those of London; so I

continued roving about till night came on, and then the splendour of some

of the shops particularly struck me. 'A regular Arabian nights'

entertainment!' said I, as I looked into one on Cornhill, gorgeous with

precious merchandise, and lighted up with lustres, the rays of which were

reflected from a hundred mirrors.

But, notwithstanding the excellence of the London pavement, I began about

nine o'clock to feel myself thoroughly tired; painfully and slowly did I

drag my feet along. I also felt very much in want of some refreshment,

and I remembered that since breakfast I had taken nothing. I was now in

the Strand, and, glancing about, I perceived that I was close by an

hotel, which bore over the door the somewhat remarkable name of Holy

Lands. Without a moment's hesitation I entered a well-lighted passage,

and turning to the left, I found myself in a well-lighted coffee-room,

with a well-dressed and frizzled waiter before me. 'Bring me some

claret,' said I, for I was rather faint than hungry, and I felt ashamed

to give a humbler order to so well-dressed an individual. The waiter

looked at me for a moment; then, making a low bow, he bustled off, and I

sat myself down in the box nearest to the window. Presently the waiter

returned, bearing beneath his left arm a long bottle, and between the

fingers of his right hand two large purple glasses; placing the latter on

the table, he produced a cork-screw, drew the cork in a twinkling, set

the bottle down before me with a bang, and then, standing still, appeared

to watch my movements. You think I don't know how to drink a glass of

claret, thought I to myself. I'll soon show you how we drink claret

where I come from; and filling one of the glasses to the brim, I

flickered it for a moment between my eyes and the lustre, and then held

it to my nose; having given that organ full time to test the bouquet of

the wine, I applied the glass to my lips, taking a large mouthful of the

wine, which I swallowed slowly and by degrees, that the palate might

likewise have an opportunity of performing its functions. A second

mouthful I disposed of more summarily; then, placing the empty glass upon

the table, I fixed my eyes upon the bottle, and said--nothing; whereupon

the waiter, who had been observing the whole process with considerable

attention, made me a bow yet more low than before, and turning on his

heel, retired with a smart chuck of his head, as much as to say, It is

all right; the young man is used to claret.

* * * * *

To the generality of mankind there is no period like youth. The

generality are far from fortunate; but the period of youth, even to the

least so, offers moments of considerable happiness, for they are not only

disposed, but able to enjoy most things within their reach. With what

trifles at that period are we content; the things from which in after-

life we should turn away in disdain please us then, for we are in the

midst of a golden cloud, and everything seems decked with a golden hue.

Never during any portion of my life did time flow on more speedily than

during the two or three years immediately succeeding the period to which

we arrived in the preceding chapter. Since then it has flagged often

enough; sometimes it has seemed to stand entirely still; and the reader

may easily judge how it fares at the present, from the circumstance of my

taking pen in hand, and endeavouring to write down the passages of my

life--a last resource with most people. But at the period to which I

allude I was just, as I may say, entering upon life; I had adopted a

profession, and--to keep up my character, simultaneously with that

profession--the study of a new language; I speedily became a proficient

in the one, but ever remained a novice in the other: a novice in the law,

but a perfect master in the Welsh tongue.

Yes! very pleasant times were those, when within the womb of a lofty deal

desk, behind which I sat for some eight hours every day, transcribing

(when I imagined eyes were upon me) documents of every description in

every possible hand, Blackstone kept company with Ab Gwilym--the polished

English lawyer of the last century, who wrote long and prosy chapters on

the rights of things--with a certain wild Welshman, who some four hundred

years before that time indited immortal cowydds and odes to the wives of

Cambrian chieftains--more particularly to one Morfydd, the wife of a

certain hunchbacked dignitary called by the poet facetiously Bwa

Bach--generally terminating with the modest request of a little private

parlance beneath the green wood bough, with no other witness than the

eos, or nightingale, a request which, if the poet himself may be

believed--rather a doubtful point--was seldom, very seldom, denied.

* * * * *

I cannot help thinking that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to a

certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages has

been always modified by the love of horses; for scarcely had I turned my

mind to the former, when I also mounted the wild cob, and hurried forth

in the direction of the Devil's Hill, scattering dust and flint-stones on

every side; that ride, amongst other things, taught me that a lad with

thews and sinews was intended by nature for something better than mere

word-culling; and if I have accomplished anything in after life worthy of

mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that

ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain. I might,

otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil

night and day in culling useless words for some opus magnum which Murray

will never publish, and nobody ever read--beings without enthusiasm, who,

having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a good point in

Pegasus himself; like a certain philologist, who, though acquainted with

the exact value of every word in the Greek and Latin languages, could

observe no particular beauty in one of the most glorious of Homer's

rhapsodies. What knew he of Pegasus? he had never mounted a generous

steed; the merest jockey, had the strain been interpreted to him, would

have called it a brave song!--I return to the brave cob.

* * * * *

'O Cheapside! Cheapside!' said I, as I advanced up that mighty

thoroughfare, 'truly thou art a wonderful place for hurry, noise and

riches! Men talk of the bazaars of the East--I have never seen them, but

I dare say that, compared with thee, they are poor places, silent places,

abounding with empty boxes. O thou pride of London's east!--mighty mart

of old renown!--for thou art not a place of yesterday: long before the

Roses red and white battled in fair England, thou didst exist--a place of

throng and bustle--a place of gold and silver, perfumes and fine linen.

Centuries ago thou couldst extort the praises even of the fiercest foes

of England. Fierce bards of Wales, sworn foes of England, sang thy

praises centuries ago; and even the fiercest of them all, Red Julius

himself, wild Glendower's bard, had a word of praise for London's

"Cheape," for so the bards of Wales styled thee in their flowing odes.

Then, if those who were not English, and hated England, and all connected

therewith, had yet much to say in thy praise, when thou wast far inferior

to what thou art now, why should true-born Englishmen, or those who call

themselves so, turn up their noses at thee, and scoff thee at the present

day, as I believe they do? But, let others do as they will, I, at least,

who am not only an Englishman, but an East Englishman, will not turn up

my nose at thee, but will praise and extol thee, calling thee mart of the

world--a place of wonder and astonishment!--and, were it right and

fitting to wish that anything should endure for ever, I would say

prosperity to Cheapside, throughout all ages--may it be the world's

resort for merchandise, world without end.

* * * * *

Oh, that ride! that first ride!--most truly it was an epoch in my

existence; and I still look back to it with feelings of longing and

regret. People may talk of first love--it is a very agreeable event, I

dare say--but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a

first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, it

is true; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; but

what of that? By that one trial I had become free, as I may say, of the

whole equine species. No more fatigue, no more stiffness of joints,

after that first ride round the Devil's Hill on the cob.

Oh, that cob! that Irish cob!--may the sod lie lightly over the bones of

the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! Oh! the days

when, issuing from the barrack-gate of Templemore, we commenced our hurry-

skurry just as inclination led--now across the fields--direct over stone

walls and running brooks--mere pastime for the cob!--sometimes along the

road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir!--what was distance

to the cob?

It was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened

within me--a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather on

the increase than diminishing. It is no blind passion; the horse being a

noble and generous creature, intended by the All-Wise to be the helper

and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation. On

many occasions of my life I have been much indebted to the horse, and

have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy

were not to be obtained. It is therefore natural enough that I should

love the horse; but the love which I entertain for him has always been

blended with respect; for I soon perceived that, though disposed to be

the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave;

in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten;

whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth, and that he

carries death within the horn of his heel. If, therefore, I found it

easy to love the horse, I found it equally natural to respect him.

* * * * *

Of one thing I am certain, that the reader must be much delighted with

the wholesome smell of the stable, with which many of these pages are

redolent; what a contrast to the sickly odours exhaled from those of some

of my contemporaries, especially of those who pretend to be of the highly

fashionable class, and who treat of reception-rooms, well may they be

styled so, in which dukes, duchesses, earls, countesses, archbishops,

bishops, mayors, mayoresses--not forgetting the writers themselves, both

male and female--congregate and press upon one another; how cheering, how

refreshing, after having been nearly knocked down with such an

atmosphere, to come in contact with genuine stable hartshorn.

* * * * *

My curiosity had led me to a most extraordinary place, which quite

beggars the scanty powers of description with which I am gifted. I

stumbled on amongst ruined walls, and at one time found I was treading

over vaults, as I suddenly started back from a yawning orifice, into

which my next step as I strolled musing along, would have precipitated

me. I proceeded for a considerable way by the eastern wall, till I heard

a tremendous bark, and presently an immense dog, such as those which

guard the flocks in the neighbourhood against the wolves, came bounding

to attack me 'with eyes that glowed, and fangs that grinned.' Had I

retreated, or had recourse to any other mode of defence than that which I

invariably practise under such circumstances, he would probably have

worried me; but I stooped till my chin nearly touched my knee, and looked

him full in the eyes, and, as John Leyden says, in the noblest ballad

which the Land of Heather has produced:

'The hound lie yowled, and back he fled,

As struck with fairy charm.'

It is a fact known to many people, and I believe it has been frequently

stated, that no large and fierce dog or animal of any kind, with the

exception of the bull, which shuts its eyes and rushes blindly forward,

will venture to attack an individual who confronts it with a firm and

motionless countenance. I say large and fierce, for it is much easier to

repel a bloodhound or bear of Finland in this manner than a dung-hill cur

or a terrier, against which a stick or a stone is a much more certain

defence. This will astonish no one who considers that the calm reproving

glance of reason, which allays the excesses of the mighty and courageous

in our own species, has seldom any other effect than to add to the

insolence of the feeble and foolish, who become placid as doves upon the

infliction of chastisements which, if attempted to be applied to the

former, would only serve to render them more terrible, and, like

gunpowder cast on a flame, cause them, in mad desperation, to scatter

destruction around them.

* * * * *

The morning of the fifth of November looked rather threatening. As,

however, it did not rain, I determined to set off for Plynlimmon, and,

returning at night to the inn, resume my journey to the south on the

following day. On looking into a pocket almanac I found it was Sunday.

This very much disconcerted me, and I thought at first of giving up my

expedition. Eventually, however, I determined to go, for I reflected

that I should be doing no harm, and that I might acknowledge the

sacredness of the day by attending morning service at the little Church

of England chapel which lay in my way.

The mountain of Plynlimmon to which I was bound is the third in Wales for

altitude, being only inferior to Snowdon and Cadair Idris. Its proper

name is Pum, or Pump, Lumon, signifying the five points, because towards

the upper part it is divided into five hills or points. Plynlimmon is a

celebrated hill on many accounts. It has been the scene of many

remarkable events. In the tenth century a dreadful battle was fought on

one of its spurs between the Danes and the Welsh, in which the former

sustained a bloody overthrow; and in 1401 a conflict took place in one of

its valleys between the Welsh, under Glendower, and the Flemings, of

Pembrokeshire, who, exasperated at having their homesteads plundered and

burned by the chieftain who was the mortal enemy of their race, assembled

in considerable numbers and drove Glendower and his forces before them to

Plynlimmon, where, the Welshmen standing at bay, a contest ensued, in

which, though eventually worsted, the Flemings were at one time all but

victorious. What, however, has more than anything else contributed to

the celebrity of the hill is the circumstance of its giving birth to

three rivers, the first of which, the Severn, is the principal stream in

Britain; the second, the Wye, the most lovely river, probably, which the

world can boast of; and the third, the Rheidol, entitled to high honour

from its boldness and impetuosity, and the remarkable banks between which

it flows in its very short course, for there are scarcely twenty miles

between the ffynnon or source of the Rheidol and the aber or place where

it disembogues itself into the sea.

* * * * *

'Good are the horses of the Moslems,' said my old friend; 'where will you

find such? They will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither

trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the Moslems,

and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the Moslems are proud,

and they like not being slaves. When they are young, and first mounted,

jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill

you; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet. Good are our

horses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the Moslems at mounting

the horse; who are like them? I once saw a Frank rider compete with a

Moslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his own

way, and he passed the Moslem, but the course was long, very long, and

the horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the

horse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem

rider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the

Frank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle. How did

he stand? Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood

on his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider; and he cried ha!

ha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried ha! ha! as

he passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far distance. Good

are the Franks; good their horses; but better are the Moslems, and better

are the horses of the Moslems.'

* * * * *

'The burra,' [donkey], I replied, 'appears both savage and vicious.'

'She is both, brother, and on that account I bought her; a savage and

vicious beast has generally four excellent legs.'

* * * * *