My story being finished, and the Wassail too, we broke up as the
Cathedral bell struck Twelve. I did not take leave of my travellers that
night; for it had come into my head to reappear, in conjunction with some
hot coffee, at seven in the morning.
As I passed along the High Street, I heard the Waits at a distance, and
struck off to find them. They were playing near one of the old gates of
the City, at the corner of a wonderfully quaint row of red-brick
tenements, which the clarionet obligingly informed me were inhabited by
the Minor-Canons. They had odd little porches over the doors, like
sounding-boards over old pulpits; and I thought I should like to see one
of the Minor-Canons come out upon his top stop, and favour us with a
little Christmas discourse about the poor scholars of Rochester; taking
for his text the words of his Master relative to the devouring of Widows'
houses.
The clarionet was so communicative, and my inclinations were (as they
generally are) of so vagabond a tendency, that I accompanied the Waits
across an open green called the Vines, and assisted--in the French
sense--at the performance of two waltzes, two polkas, and three Irish
melodies, before I thought of my inn any more. However, I returned to it
then, and found a fiddle in the kitchen, and Ben, the wall-eyed young
man, and two chambermaids, circling round the great deal table with the
utmost animation.
I had a very bad night. It cannot have been owing to the turkey or the
beef,--and the Wassail is out of the question--but in every endeavour
that I made to get to sleep I failed most dismally. I was never asleep;
and in whatsoever unreasonable direction my mind rambled, the effigy of
Master Richard Watts perpetually embarrassed it.
In a word, I only got out of the Worshipful Master Richard Watts's way by
getting out of bed in the dark at six o'clock, and tumbling, as my custom
is, into all the cold water that could be accumulated for the purpose.
The outer air was dull and cold enough in the street, when I came down
there; and the one candle in our supper-room at Watts's Charity looked as
pale in the burning as if it had had a bad night too. But my Travellers
had all slept soundly, and they took to the hot coffee, and the piles of
bread-and-butter, which Ben had arranged like deals in a timber-yard, as
kindly as I could desire.
While it was yet scarcely daylight, we all came out into the street
together, and there shook hands. The widow took the little sailor
towards Chatham, where he was to find a steamboat for Sheerness; the
lawyer, with an extremely knowing look, went his own way, without
committing himself by announcing his intentions; two more struck off by
the cathedral and old castle for Maidstone; and the book-pedler
accompanied me over the bridge. As for me, I was going to walk by Cobham
Woods, as far upon my way to London as I fancied.
When I came to the stile and footpath by which I was to diverge from the
main road, I bade farewell to my last remaining Poor Traveller, and
pursued my way alone. And now the mists began to rise in the most
beautiful manner, and the sun to shine; and as I went on through the
bracing air, seeing the hoarfrost sparkle everywhere, I felt as if all
Nature shared in the joy of the great Birthday.
Going through the woods, the softness of my tread upon the mossy ground
and among the brown leaves enhanced the Christmas sacredness by which I
felt surrounded. As the whitened stems environed me, I thought how the
Founder of the time had never raised his benignant hand, save to bless
and heal, except in the case of one unconscious tree. By Cobham Hall, I
came to the village, and the churchyard where the dead had been quietly
buried, "in the sure and certain hope" which Christmas time inspired.
What children could I see at play, and not be loving of, recalling who
had loved them! No garden that I passed was out of unison with the day,
for I remembered that the tomb was in a garden, and that "she, supposing
him to be the gardener," had said, "Sir, if thou have borne him hence,
tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away." In time,
the distant river with the ships came full in view, and with it pictures
of the poor fishermen, mending their nets, who arose and followed him,--of
the teaching of the people from a ship pushed off a little way from
shore, by reason of the multitude,--of a majestic figure walking on the
water, in the loneliness of night. My very shadow on the ground was
eloquent of Christmas; for did not the people lay their sick where the
more shadows of the men who had heard and seen him might fall as they
passed along?
Thus Christmas begirt me, far and near, until I had come to Blackheath,
and had walked down the long vista of gnarled old trees in Greenwich
Park, and was being steam-rattled through the mists now closing in once
more, towards the lights of London. Brightly they shone, but not so
brightly as my own fire, and the brighter faces around it, when we came
together to celebrate the day. And there I told of worthy Master Richard
Watts, and of my supper with the Six Poor Travellers who were neither
Rogues nor Proctors, and from that hour to this I have never seen one of
them again.