The weather was of the finest; and the beautiful city of colleges

looked at its best. While the Rector met with old friends, and heard

his son's praises, and renewed his acquaintance with his old haunts

of study, Mr. Green again lionized Oxford in a much more comfortable

and satisfactory manner than he had previously done at the heels of a

professional guide. As for the young ladies, they were charmed with

everything; for they had never before been in a University town, and

all things had the fascination of novelty. Great were the luncheons

held in Mr. Verdant Green's and Charles Larkyns' rooms; musical was

the laughter that floated merrily through the grave old quads of

Brazenface; happy were the two hearts that held converse with each

other in those cool cloisters and shady gardens. How a few flounces

and bright girlish smiles can change the aspect of the sternest homes

of knowledge! How sunlight can be brought into the gloomiest nooks

of learning by the beams that irradiate happy girlish faces, where

the light of love and truth shines out clear and joyous! How the

appearance of the Commemoration week is influenced in a way thus

described by one of Oxonia's poets:-

"Peace! for in the gay procession brighter forms are borne along-

Fairer scholars, pleasure-beaming, float amid the classic throng.

Blither laughter's ringing music fills the haunts of men awhile,

And the sternest priests of knowledge blush beneath a maiden's

smile.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 219]

Maidens teach a softer science - laughing Love his pinions dips,

Hush'd to hear fantastic whispers murmur'd from a pedant's lips.

Oh, believe it, throbbing pulses flutter under folds of starch,

And the Dons are human-hearted if the ladies' smiles be arch."

Thanks to the influence of Charles Larkyns and his father, the party

were enabled to see all that was to be seen during the Commemoration

week. On the Saturday night they went to the amateur concert at the

Town Hall, in aid of which, strange to say, Mr. Bouncer's proffer of

his big drum had been <VG219.JPG> declined. On the Sunday they went,

in the morning, to St. Mary's to hear the Bampton lecture; and, in

the afternoon, to the magnificent choral service at New College. In

the evening they attended the customary "Show Sunday" promenade in

Christ Church Broad Walk, where, under the delicious cool of the

luxuriant foliage, they met all the rank, beauty, and fashion that

were assembled in Oxford; and where, until Tom "tolled the hour for

retiring," they threaded their way amid a miscellaneous crowd of Dons

and Doctors, and Tufts and Heads of Houses, -

With prudes for Proctors, dowagers for Deans,

And bright girl-graduates with their golden hair.

On the Monday they had a party to Woodstock and Blenheim; and in the

evening went, on the Brazenface barge, to see the procession of

boats, where the Misses Green had the satisfaction to see their

brother pulling in one of the fifteen torpids that followed

immediately in the wake of the other boats. They concluded the

evening's entertainments in a most satisfactory manner, by going to

the ball at the Town Hall.

[220 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Indeed, the way the two young ladies worked was worthy of all credit,

and proved them to be possessed of the most vigorous constitutions;

for, although they danced till an <VG220.JPG> early hour in the

morning, they not only, on the next day, went to the anniversary

sermon for the Radcliffe, and after that to the horticultural show in

the Botanical Gardens, and after that to the concert in the

Sheldonian Theatre, but - as though they had not had enough to

fatigue them already - they must, forsooth - Brazenface being one of

the ball-giving colleges - wind up the night by accepting the polite

invitation of Mr. Verdant Green and Mr. Charles Larkyns to a ball

given in their college hall. And how many polkas these young ladies

danced, and how many waltzes they waltzed, and how many ices they

consumed, and how many too susceptible partners they drove to the

verge of desperation, it would be improper, if not impossible, to say.

But, however much they might have been fagged by their exertions of

feet and features, it is certain that, by ten of the clock the next

morning, they appeared, quite fresh and charming to the view, in the

ladies' gallery in the theatre. There - after the proceedings had

been opened by the undergraduates in ~their~ peculiar way, and by the

vice-chancellor in ~his~ peculiar way - and, after the degrees had

been conferred, and the public orator had delivered an oration in a

tongue not understanded of the people, our friends from Warwickshire

had the delight of beholding Mr. Charles Larkyns ascend the rostrums

to deliver, in their proper order, the Latin Essay and the English

Verse. He had chosen his friend Verdant to be his prompter; so that

the well-known "gig-lamps" of our hero formed, as it were, a very

focus of attraction: but it was well for Mr. Charles Larkyns that he

was possessed of self-control and a good memory, for Mr. Verdant

Green was far too nervous to have prompted him in any efficient

manner. We may be sure, that in all that bevy of fair women, at

least one pair of bright eyes kindled with rapture, and one heart

beat with exulting joy, when the deafening cheers that followed the

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 221]

poet's description of the moon, the sea, and woman's love (the three

ingredients which are apparently necessary for the sweetening of all

prize poems), rang through the theatre and made its walls re-echo to

the shouting. And we may be sure that, when it was all over, and

when the Commemoration had come to an end, Charles Larkyns felt

rewarded for all his hours <VG221.JPG> of labour by the deep love

garnered up in his heart by the trustful affection of one who had

become as dear to him as life itself!

* * * * * * * *

It was one morning after they had all returned to the Manor Green

that our hero said to his friend, "How I ~do~ wish that this day week

were come!"

"I dare say you do," replied the friend: "and I dare say that the

pretty Patty is wishing the same wish." Upon which Mr. Verdant Green

not only laughed but blushed!

For it seemed that he, together with his sisters, Mr. Charles

Larkyns, and Mr. Bouncer, were about to pay a long-vacation visit to

Honeywood Hall, in the county of Northumberland; and the young man

was naturally looking forward to it with all the ardour of a first

and consuming passion.

[222 ]

PART III.

CHAPTER I.

MR. VERDANT GREEN TRAVELS NORTH.

<VG222.JPG> JULY: fierce and burning! A day to tinge the green corn

with a golden hue. A day to scorch grass into hay between sunrise

and sunset. A day in which to rejoice in the cool thick masses of

trees, and to lie on one's back under their canopy, and look dreamily

up, through its rents, at the peep of hot, cloudless, blue sky. A

day to sit on shady banks upon yielding cushions of moss and heather,

from whence you gaze on bright flowers blazing in the blazing sun,

and rest your eyes again upon your book to find the lines swimming in

a radiance of mingled green and red. A day that fills you with

amphibious feelings, and makes you desire to be even a dog, that you

might bathe and paddle and swim in every roadside brook and pond,

without the exertion of dressing and undressing, and yet with

propriety. A day that sends you out by willow-hung streams, to fish,

as an excuse for idleness. A day that drives you dinnerless from

smoking joints, and plunges you thirstfully into barrels of beer. A

day that induces apathetic listlessness and total prostration of

energy, even under the aggravating warfare of gnats and wasps. A day

that engenders pity for the ranks of ruddy haymakers, hotly marching

on under the merciless glare of the noonday sun. A day when the very

air, steaming up from the earth, seems to palpitate with the heat. A

day when Society has left its cool and pleasant country-house, and

finds itself baked and burnt up in town, condemned to ovens of

operas, and fiery furnaces of levees and drawing-rooms. A day when

even ice is warm, and perspiring visitors to the Zoological Gardens

envy the hippopotamus living in his bath. A day when a hot,

frizzling, sweltering smell ascends from the

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 223]

ground, as though it was the earth's great ironing day. And - above

all - a day that converts a railway traveller into a martyr, and a

first-class carriage into a moving representation of the Black Hole

of Calcutta.

So thought Mr. Verdant Green, as he was whirled onward to the far

north, in company with his three sisters, Miss Bouncer, and Mr.

Charles Larkyns. Being six in number, they formed a snug (and hot)

family party, and filled the carriage, to the exclusion of little Mr.

Bouncer, who, nevertheless, bore this temporary and unavoidable

separation with a tranquil mind, inasmuch as it enabled him to ride

in a second-class carriage, where he could the more conveniently

indulge in the furtive pleasures of the Virginian weed. But, to keep

up his connection with the party, and to prove that his interest in

them could not be diminished by a brief and enforced absence, Mr.

Bouncer paid them flying visits at every station, keeping his pipe

alight by a puff into the carriage, accompanied with an expression of

his full conviction that Miss Fanny Green had been smoking, in

defiance of the company's by-laws. These rapid interviews were

enlivened by Mr. Bouncer informing his friends that Huz and Buz (who

were panting in a locker) were as well as could be expected, and

giving any other interesting particulars regarding himself, his

fellow-travellers, or the country in general, that could be

compressed into the space of sixty seconds or thereabouts; and the

visits were regularly and ruthlessly brought to an abrupt termination

by the angry "Now, then, sir!" of the guard, and the reckless

thrusting of the little gentleman into his second-class carriage, to

the endangerment of his life and limbs, and the exaggerated display

of authority on the part of the railway official. Mr. Bouncer's

mercurial temperament had enabled him to get over the little

misfortune that had followed upon his examination for his degree; but

he still preserved a memento of that hapless period in the shape of a

wig of curly black hair. For he found, during the summer months,

such coolness from his shaven poll, that, in spite of "the mum's"

entreaties, he would not suffer his own luxuriant locks to grow, but

declared that, till the winter at any rate, he would wear his gent's

real head of hair; and in order that our railway party should not

forget the reason for its existence, Mr. Bouncer occasionally

favoured them with a sight of his bald head, and also narrated to

them, with great glee, how, when a very starchy lady of a certain age

had left their carriage, he had called after her upon the platform -

holding out his wig as he did so - that she had left some of her

property behind her; and how the passengers and porters had grinned,

and the starchy lady had lost all her stiffening through the hotness

of her wrath. York at last! A half-hour's escape from the hot

carriage,

[224 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

and a hasty dinner on cold lamb and cool salad in the pleasant

refreshment-room hung round with engravings. Mr. Bouncer's dinner is

got over with incredible rapidity, in order that the little gentleman

may carry out his humane intention of releasing Huz and Buz from

their locker, and giving them their dinner and a run on the remote

end of the platform, at a distance from timid spectators; which

design is satisfactorily performed, and crowned with a douche bath

from the engine-pump. Then, <VG224.JPG> away again to the

rabbit-hole of a locker, the smoky second-class carriage, and the

stuffy first-class; incarcerated in which black-hole, the plump Miss

Bouncer, notwithstanding that she has removed her bonnet and all

superfluous coverings, gets hotter than ever in the afternoon sun,

and is seen, ever and anon, to pass over her glowing face a

handkerchief cooled with the waters of Cologne. And, when the man

with the grease-pot comes round to look at the tires of the wheels,

the sight of it increases her warmth by suggesting a desire (which

cannot be gratified) for lemon ice. Nevertheless, they have with

them a variety of cooling refreshments, and their hot-house fruit and

strawberries are most acceptable. The Misses Green have wisely

followed their friend's example, in the removal of bonnets and

mantles; and, as they amuse themselves with books and embroidery, the

black-hole bears, as far as possible, a resemblance to a boudoir.

Charles Larkyns favours the company with extracts from ~The Times~;

reads to them the last number of Dickens's new tale, or directs their

attention to the most note-worthy points on their route. Mr. Verdant

Green is seated ~vis-a-vis~ to the plump Miss Bouncer, and

benignantly beams upon her through his glasses, or musingly consults

his ~Bradshaw~ to count how much nearer they have crept to their

destination, the while his thoughts have travelled on in the very

quickest of express trains, and have already reached the far north.

Thus they journey: crawling under the stately old walls of York;

then, with a rush and a roar, sliding rapidly over the

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 225]

level landscape, from whence they can look back upon the glorious

Minster towers standing out grey and cold from the sunlit plain.

Then, to Darlington; and on by porters proclaiming the names of

stations in uncouth Dunelmian tongue, informing passengers that they

have reached "Faweyill" and "Fensoosen," instead of "Ferry Hill" and

"Fence Houses," and terrifying nervous people by the command to

"Change here for Doom!" when only the propinquity of the palatinate

city is signified. And so, on by the triple towers of Durham that

gleam in the sun with a ruddy orange hue; on, leaving to the left

that last resting-place of Bede and St. Cuthbert, on the rock

"Where his cathedral, huge and vast,

Looks down upon the Wear."

On, past the wonderfully out-of-place "Durham monument," a Grecian

temple on a naked hill among the coal-pits; on, with a double curve,

over the Wear, laden with its Rhine-like rafts; on, to grimy

Gateshead and smoky Newcastle, and, with a scream and a rattle, over

the wonderful High Level (then barely completed), looking down with a

sort of self-satisfied shudder upon the bridge, and the Tyne, and the

fleet of colliers, and the busy quays, and the quaint timber-built

houses with their overlapping storys, and picturesque black and white

gables. Then, on again, after a cool delay and brief release from

the black-hole; on, into Northumbrian ground, over the Wansbeck; past

Morpeth; by Warkworth, and its castle, and hermitage; over the Coquet

stream, beloved by the friends of gentle Izaak Walton; on, by the

sea-side - almost along the very sands - with the refreshing

sea-breeze, and the murmuring plash of the breakers - the Misses

Green giving way to childish delight at this their first glimpse of

the sea; on, over the Aln, and past Alnwick; and so on, still further

north, to a certain little station, which is the terminus of their

railway journey, and the signal of their deliverance from the

black-hole.

There, on the platform is Mr. Honeywood, looking hale and happy, and

delighted to receive his posse of visitors; and there, outside the

little station, is the carriage and dog-cart, and a spring-cart for

the luggage. Charles Larkyns takes possession of the dog-cart, in

company with Mary and Fanny Green, and little Mr. Bouncer; while Huz

and Buz, released from their weary imprisonment, caracole gracefully

around the vehicle. Mr. Honeywood takes the reins of his own

carriage; Mr. Verdant Green mounts the box beside him; Miss Bouncer

and Miss Helen Green take possession of the open interior of the

carriage; the spring-cart, with the servants and luggage, follows in

the rear; and off they go.

But, though the two blood-horses are by no means slow of

[226 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

action, and do, in truth, gallop apace like fiery-footed steeds, yet

to Mr. Verdant Green's anxious mind they seem to make but slow

progress; and the magnificent country through which they pass offers

but slight charms for his abstracted thoughts; until (at last) they

come in sight of a broken mountain-range, and Mr. Honeywood, pointing

with his whip, exclaims, "Yon's the Cheevyuts, as they say in these

parts; there are the Cheviot Hills; and there, just where you see

that gleam of light on a white house among some trees - there is

Honeywood Hall."

Did Mr. Verdant Green remove his eyes from that object of attraction,

save when intervening hills, for a time, hid it from his view? did

he, when they neared it, and he saw its landscape beauties bathed in

the golden splendours of a July sunset, did he think it a very

paradise that held within its bowers the Peri of his heart's worship?

did he - as they passed the lodge, and drove up an avenue of firs -

did he scan the windows of the house, and immediately determine in

his own mind which was HER window, oblivious to the fact that SHE

might sleep on the other side of the building? did he, as they pulled

up at the door, scrutinize the female figures who were there to

receive them, and experience a feeling made up of doubt and

certainty, that there was one who, though not present, was waiting

near with a heart beating as anxiously as his own? did he make wild

remarks, and return incoherent answers, until the long-expected

moment had come that brought him face to face with the adorable

Patty? did he envy Charles Larkyns for possessing and practising the

cousinly privilege of bestowing a kiss upon her rosy cheeks? and did

he, as he pressed her hand, and marked the heightened glow of her

happy face, did he feel within his heart an exultant thrill of joy as

the fervid thought fired his brain - one day she may be mine?

Perhaps!

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 227]

CHAPTER II.

MR. VERDANT GREEN DELIVERS MISS PATTY HONEYWOOD FROM

THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA.

<VG227.JPG> EVEN if Mr. Verdant Green had not been filled with the

peculiarly pleasurable sensations to which allusion has just been

made, it is yet exceedingly probable that he would have found his

visit to Honeywood Hall one of those agreeable and notable events

which the memory of after-years invests with the ~couleur du rose~.

In the first place - even if Miss Patty was left out of the question

- every one was so particularly attentive to him, that all his wants,

as regarded amusement and occupation, were promptly supplied, and not

a minute was allowed to hang heavily upon his hands. And, in the

second place, the country, and its people and customs, had so much

freshness and peculiarity, that he could not stir abroad without

meeting with novelty. New ideas were constantly received; and other

sensations of a still more delightful nature were daily deepened.

Thus the time passed pleasantly away at Honeywood Hall, and the hours

chased each other with flying feet.

Mr. Honeywood was a squire, or laird; and though the prospect from

the hall was far too extensive to allow of his being monarch of ~all~

that he surveyed, yet he was the proprietor of no inconsiderable

portion. The small village of Honeybourn, - which brought its one

wide street of long, low, lime-washed houses hard by the hall, - owned

no other master than Mr. Honeywood; and all its inhabitants were, in

one way or other, his labourers. They had their own blacksmith,

shoemaker, tailor, and carpenter; they maintained a general shop of

the tea-coffee-tobacco-and-snuff genus; and they lived as one family,

entirely independent of any other village. In fact, the villages in

that district were as sparingly distributed as are "livings" among

poor curates, and, when met with, were equally as small; and so it

happened, that as the landowners usually resided, like Mr. Honeywood,

among their own people, a gentleman would occasionally be as badly

off for a neighbour, as though he had been a resident in the

backwoods of Canada. This evil, however, was productive of good, in

that it set aside

[228 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

the possibility of a deliberate interchange of formal morning-calls,

and obliged neighbours to be hospitable to each other, ~sans

ceremonie~, and with all good fellowship. To drive fifteen, twenty,

or even five-and-twenty miles, to a dinner party was so common an

occurrence, that it excited surprise only in a stranger, whose

wonderment at this voluntary fatigue would be quickly dispelled on

witnessing the hearty hospitality and friendly freedom that made a

north country visit so enjoyable, and robbed the dinner party of its

ordinary character of an English solemnity.

Close to Honeybourn village was the Squire's model farm, with its

wide-spreading yards and buildings, and its comfortable bailiff's

house. In a morning at sunrise, when our Warwickshire friends were

yet in bed, such of them as were light sleepers would hear a not very

melodious fanfare from a cow's horn - the signal to the village that

the day's work was begun, which signal was repeated at sunset. This

old custom possessed uncommon charms for Mr. Bouncer, whose only

regret was that he had left behind him his celebrated tin horn. But

he took to the cow-horn with the readiness of a child to a new

plaything; and, having placed himself under the instruction of

<VG228.JPG> the Northumbrian Koenig, was speedily enabled to sound

his octaves and go the complete unicorn (as he was wont to express

it, in his peculiarly figurative eastern language) with a still more

astounding effect than he had done on his former instrument. The

little gentleman always made a point of thus signalling the times of

the arrival and departure of the post, - greatly to the delight of

small Jock Muir, who, girded with his letter-bag, and mounted on a

highly-trained donkey, rode to and fro to the neighbouring post-town.

Although Mr. Verdant Green was not (according to Mr. Bouncer) "a

bucolical party," and had not any very amazing taste for agriculture,

he nevertheless could not but feel interested in what he saw around

him. To one who was so accustomed to the small enclosures and

timbered hedge-rows of the midland counties, the country of the

Cheviots appeared in a grand, though naked aspect, like some stalwart

gladiator of the stern old times. The fields were of large extent;

and it was no uncommon sight to see, within one boundary fence, a

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 229]

hundred acres of wheat, rippling into mimic waves, like some inland

sea. The flocks and herds, too, were on a grand scale; men counted

their sheep, not by tens, but by hundreds. Everything seemed to be

influenced, as it were, by the large character of the scenery. The

green hills, with their short sweet grass, gave good pasture for the

fleecy tribe, who were dotted over the sward in almost countless

numbers; and Mr. Verdant Green was as much gratified with "the silly

sheep," as with anything else that he witnessed in that land of

novelty. To see the shepherd, with his bonnet and grey plaid, and

long slinging step, walking first, and the flock following him, - to

hear him call the sheep by name, and to perceive how he knew them

individually, and how they each and all would answer to his voice,

was a realization of Scripture reading, and a northern picture of

Eastern life.

The head shepherd, old Andrew Graham - an active youth whose long

snowy locks had been bleached by the snows of eighty winters - was an

especial favourite of Mr. Verdant Green's, who would never tire of

his company, or of his anecdotes of his marvellous dogs. His cottage

was at a distance from the village, up in a snug hollow of one of the

hills. There he lived, and there had been brought up his six sons,

and as many daughters. Of the latter, two were out at service in

noble families of the county; one was maid to the Misses Honeywood,

and the three others were at home. How they and the other inmates of

the cottage were housed, was a mystery; for, although old Andrew was

of a superior condition in life to the other cottagers of Honeybourn,

yet his domicile was like all the rest in its arrangements and

accommodation. It was one moderately large room, fitted up with

cupboards, in which, one above another, were berths, like to those on

board a steamer. In what way the morning and evening toilettes were

performed was a still greater mystery to our Warwickshire friends;

nevertheless, the good-looking trio of damsels were always to be

found neat, clean, and presentable; and, as their mother one day

proudly remarked, they were "douce, sonsy bairns, wi' weel-faur'd

nebs; and, for puir folks, would be weel tochered." Upon which our

hero said "Indeed!" which, as he had not the slightest idea what the

good woman meant, was, perhaps, the wisest remark that he could have

made.

One of them was generally to be found spinning at her muckle wheel,

retiring and advancing to the music of its cheerful hum, the while

her spun thread was rapidly coiled up on the spindle. The others, as

they busied themselves in their household duties, or brightened up

the delf and pewter, and set it out on the shelf to its best

advantage, would join in some plaintive Scotch ballad, with such good

taste and skill that our friends would

[230 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

frequently love to linger within hearing, though out of sight.

<VG230.JPG>

But these artless ditties were sometimes specially sung for them when

they paid the cottage-room a visit, and sat around its canopied,

projecting fire-place. For, old Andrew was a great smoker; and

little Mr. Bouncer was exceedingly fond of waylaying him on his

return home, and "blowing a cloud" with so loquacious and novel a

companion. And Mr. Verdant Green sometimes joined him in these

visits; on which occasions, as harmony was the order of the day, he

would do his best to further it by singing "Marble Halls," or any

other song that his limited ~repertoire~ could boast; while old

Andrew would burst into "Tullochgorum," or do violence to "Get up

and bar the door."

It must be confessed, that the conversation at such times was

sustained not without difficulty. Old Andrew, his wife, and the

major portion of his family, were barely able to understand the

language of their guests, whom they persisted in generalizing as

"cannie Soothrons;" while the guests, on their part, could not

altogether arrive at the meaning of observations that were couched in

the most incomprehensible ~patois~ that was ever invented. It was

"neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring," although it was

flavoured with the Northumbrian burr, and mixed with a species of

Scotch; and the historian of these pages would feel almost as much

difficulty in setting down this north-Northumbrian dialect, as he

would do were he to attempt to reduce to words the bird-like chatter

of the Bosjesmen.

When, for example, the bewigged Mr. Bouncer - "the laddie wi' the

black pow," as they called him - was addressed as "Hinny! jist come

ben, and crook yer hough on the settle, and het yersen by the

chimney-lug," it was as much by action as by word that he understood

an invitation to be seated; though the "wet yer thrapple wi' a drap

o' whuskie, mon!" was easier of comprehension when accompanied with

the presentation of the whiskey-horn. In like manner, when Mr.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 231]

Verdant Green's arrival was announced by the furious barking of the

faithful dogs, the apology that "the camstary breutes of dougs would

not steek their clatterin' gabs," was accepted as an ample

explanation, more from the dogs being quieted than from the lucidity

of the remark that explained their uproar.

There was one class of lady-labourers, peculiar to that part

<VG231.JPG> of the country, who were called Bondagers, - great

strapping damsels of three or four - woman - power, whose occupation it

was to draw water, and perform some of the rougher duties attendant

upon agricultural pursuits. The sturdy legs of these young ladies

were equipped in greaves of leather, which protected them from the

cutting attacks of stubble, thistles, and all other lacerating

specimens of botany, and their exuberant figures were clad in

buskins, and many-coloured garments, that were not long enough to

conceal their greaves and clod-hopping boots. Altogether, these

young women, when engaged at their ordinary avocations by the side of

a spring, formed no unpicturesque subject for the sketcher's pencil,

and might have been advantageously transferred to canvas by many an

artist who travels to greater distances in search of lesser

novelties.*

But many peculiar subjects for the pencil might there have been

found. One day when they were all going to see the ewe-milking

(which of itself would have furnished material

---

* In north-Northumberland, farm-labourers are usually hired by the

year - from Whitsunday to Whitsunday - and are paid mostly in kind, -

so many bolls of oats, barley, and peas - so much flax and wheat -

the keep of a cow, and the addition of a few pounds in money. Every

hind or labourer is bound, in return for his house, to provide a

woman labourer to the farmer, for so much a day throughout the

year-which is usually tenpence a day in summer, and eightpence in

winter; and as it often happens that he has none of his own family

fit for the work, he has to hire a woman, at large wages, to do it.

As the demand is greater than the supply there is not always a strict

inquiry into the "bondager's" character. As with the case of

hop-pickers - whom these bondagers somewhat resemble both socially

and morally - they are oftentimes the inhabitants of

densely-populated towns, who are tempted to live a brief agricultural

life, not so much from the temptation of the wages, as from the

desire to pass a summer-time in the country.

-=-

[232 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN ]

for a host of sketches), they suddenly came upon the following

scene. Round by the gable of a cottage was seated <VG232.JPG> a

shock-headed rustic Absalom, and standing over him was another

rustic, who, with a large pair of shears, was acting as an amateur

Tonson, and was earnestly engaged in reducing the other's profuse

head of hair; an occupation upon which he busied himself with more

zeal than discretion. Of this little scene Miss Patty Honeywood

forthwith made a memorandum.

For Miss Patty possessed the enviable accomplishment of sketching

from nature; and, leaving the beaten track of young-lady

figure-artists, who usually limit their efforts to chalk-heads and

crayon smudges, she boldy launched into the more difficult, but far

more pleasing undertaking of delineating the human form divine from

the very life. Mr. Verdant Green found this sketching from nature to

be so pretty a pastime, that though unable of himself to produce the

feeblest specimen of art, he yet took the greatest delight in

watching the facility with which Miss Patty's taper fingers

transferred to paper the ~vraisemblance~ of a pair of sturdy

Bondagers, or the miniature reflection of a grand landscape. Happily

for him, also, by way of an excuse for bestowing his company upon

Miss Patty, he was enabled to be of some use to her in carrying her

sketching-block and box of moist water-colours, or in bringing to her

water from a neighbouring spring, or in sharpening her pencils. On

these occasions Verdant would have preferred their being left to the

sole enjoyment of each other's company; but this was not so to be,

for they were always favoured with the attendance of at least a third

person.

But (at last!) on one happy day, when the bright sunshine was

reflected in Miss Patty Honeywood's bright-beaming face, Mr. Verdant

Green found himself wandering forth,

"All in the blue, unclouded weather,"

with his heart's idol, and no third person to intrude upon their

duet. The alleged purport of the walk was, that Miss Patty might

sketch the ruined church of Lasthope, which was about

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 233]

two miles distant from the Hall. To reach it they had to follow the

course of the Swirl, which ran through the Squire's grounds.

The Swirl was a brawling, picturesque stream; at one place narrowing

into threads of silver between lichen-covered stones and fragments of

rock; at another place flowing on in deep pools -

"Wimpling, dimpling, staying never-

Lisping, gurgling, ever going,

Sipping, slipping, ever flowing,

Toying round the polish'd stone;"*

fretting "in rough, shingly shallows wide," and then "bickering down

the sunny day." On one day, it might, in places, and with the aid of

stepping-stones, be crossed dryshod; and within twenty-four hours it

might be swelled by mountain torrents into a river wider than the

Thames at Richmond. This sudden growth of the

"Infant of the weeping hills,"

was the reason why the high road was carried over the Swirl by a

bridge of ten arches - a circumstance which had greatly excited

little Mr. Bouncer's ideas of the ridiculous when he perceived the

narrow stream scarcely wide enough to wet the sides of one of the

arches of the great bridge that straggled over it, like a railway

viaduct over a canal. But, ere his visit to Honeywood Hall had come

to an end, the little gentleman had more than once seen the Swirl

swollen to its fullest dimensions, and been enabled to recognize the

use of the bridge, and the full force of the local expression - "the

waeter is grit."

As Verdant and Miss Patty made their way along the bank of this most

changeable stream, they came upon Mr. Charles Larkyns knee-deep in

it, equipped in his wading-boots and fishing dress, and industriously

whipping the water for trout. The Swirl was a famous trout-stream,

and Mr. Honeywood's coachman was a noted fisherman, and was

accustomed to pass many of his nights fishing the stream with a white

moth. It appeared that the finny inhabitants of the Swirl were as

fond of whitebait as are Cabinet Ministers and London aldermen; for

the coachman's deeds of darkness invariably resulted in the

production of a fine dish of freshly-caught trout for the

breakfast-table.

"It must be hard work," said Verdant to his friend, as they stopped

awhile to watch him; "it must be hard work to make your way against

the stream, and to clamber in and out among the rocks and stones."

"Not at all hard work," was Charles Larkyns's reply, "but play.

Play, too, in more senses than one. See! I have just struck a fish.

Watch, while I play him.

---

* Thomas Aird

-=-

[234 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

'The play's the thing!' Wait awhile and you'll see me land him, or

I'm much mistaken."

<VG234.JPG> So they waited awhile and watched this fisherman at

play, until he had triumphantly landed his fish, and then they

pursued their way.

Miss Patty had great conversational abilities and immense power of

small talk, so that Verdant felt quite at ease in her society, and

found his natural timidity and quiet bashfulness to be greatly

diminished, even if they were not altogether put on one side. They

were always such capital friends, and Miss Patty was so kind and

thoughtful in making Verdant appear to the best advantage, and in

looking over any little ~gaucheries~ to which his bashfulness might

give birth, that it is not to be wondered at if the young gentleman

should feel great delight in her society, and should seek for it at

every opportunity. In fact, Miss Patty Honeywood was beginning to be

quite necessary to Mr. Verdant Green's happy existence. It may be

that the young lady was not altogether ignorant of this, but was

enabled to read the young man's state of mind, and to judge pretty

accurately of his inward feelings, from those minute details of

outward evidence which womankind are so quick to mark, and so skilful

in tracing to their true source. It may be, also, that the young

lady did not choose either to check these feelings or to alter this

state of mind - which she certainly ought to have done if she was

solicitous for her companion's happiness, and was unable to increase

it in the way that he wished.

But, at any rate, with mutual satisfaction for the present, they

strolled together along the Swirl's rocky banks, and passing into a

large enclosure, they advanced midway through the fields to a spot

which seemed a suitable one for Miss Patty's purpose. The brawling

stream made a good foreground for the picture, which, on the one

side, was shut in by a steep hill rising precipitously from the

water's rough bed, and on the other side opened out into a

mountainous landscape, having in the near view the ruined church of

Lasthope, with the still more ruinous minister's house, a fir

plantation, and a rude bridge; with a middle distance of bold,

sheep-dotted hills; and for a background the "sow-backed" Cheviot

itself.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 235]

Miss Patty had made her outline of this scene, and was preparing to

wash it in, when, as her companion came up from <VG235.JPG> the

stream with a little tin can of water, he saw, to his equal terror

and amazement, a huge bull of the most uninviting aspect stealthily

approaching the seated figure of the unconscious young lady. Mr.

Verdant Green looked hastily around and at once perceived the danger

that menaced his fair friend. It was evident that the bull had come

up from the further end of the large enclosure, the while they had

been too occupied to observe his stealthy approach. No one was in

sight save Charles Larkyns, who was too far off to be of any use.

The nearest gate was about a hundred and fifty yards distant; and the

bull was so placed that he could overtake them before they would be

able to reach it. Overtake them! - yes! But suppose they

separated? then, as the brute could not go two ways at once, there

would be a chance for one of them to get through the gate in safety.

Love, which induces people to take extraordinary steps, prompted Mr.

Verdant Green to jump at a conclusion. He determined, with less

display but more sincerity than melodramatic heroes, to save Miss

Patty, or "perish in the attempt."

She was seated on the rising bank altogether ignorant of the presence

of danger; and, as Verdant returned to her with the tin can of water,

she received him with a happy smile, and a gush of pleasant small

talk, which our hero immediately repressed by saying, "Don't be

frightened - there is no danger - but there is a bull coming towards

us. Walk quietly to that gate, and keep your face towards him as

much as possible, and don't let him see that you are afraid of him.

I will take off his attention till you are safe at the gate, and then

I can wade through the stream and get out of his reach."

Miss Patty had at once sprung to her feet, and her smile had changed

to a terrified expression. "Oh, but he will hurt you!" she cried;

"do come with me. It is papa's bull ~Roarer~; he is very savage. I

can't think what brings him here - he is generally up at the

bailiff's. Pray do come; I can take care of myself."

[236 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

Miss Patty in her agitation and anxiety had taken hold of Mr. Verdant

Green's hand; but, although the young gentleman would at any other

time have very willingly allowed her to retain possession of it, on

the present occasion he disengaged it from her clasp, and said, "Pray

don't lose time, or it will be too late for both of us. I assure you

that I can easily take care of myself. Now do go, pray; quietly, but

quickly." So Miss Patty, with an earnest, searching gaze into her

companion's face, did as he bade her, and retreated with her face to

the foe.

In a few seconds, however, the object of her movement had dawned upon

Mr. Roarer's dull understanding, upon which discovery he set up a

bellow of fury, and stamped the ground in very undignified wrath.

But, more than this, like a skilful general who has satisfactorily

worked out the forty-seventh proposition of the First Book of Euclid,

and knows therefrom that the square of the hypothenuse equals both

that of the base and perpendicular, he unconsciously commenced the

solution of the problem, by making a galloping charge in the

direction of the gate to which Miss Patty was hastening. Thereupon,

Mr. Verdant Green, perceiving the young lady's peril, deliberately

ran towards Mr. Roarer, shouting and brandishing the sketch-book. Mr.

Roarer paused in wonder and perplexity. Mr. Verdant Green shouted

and advanced; Miss Patty steadily retreated. After a few moments of

indecision Mr. Roarer abandoned his design of pursuing the

petticoats, and resolved that the gentleman should be his first

victim. Accordingly he sounded his trumpet for the conflict, gave

another roar and a stamp, and then ran towards Mr. Verdant Green,

who, having picked up a large stone, threw it dexterously into Mr.

Roarer's face, which brought that broad-chested gentleman to a

stand-still of astonishment and a search for the missile. Of this Mr.

Verdant Green took advantage, and made a Parthian retreat. Glancing

towards Miss Patty he saw that she was within thirty yards of the

gate, and in a minute or two would be in safety - saved through his

means!

A bellow from Mr. Roarer's powerful lungs prevented him for the

present from pursuing this delightful theme. In another moment the

bull charged, and Mr. Verdant Green - braced up, as it were, to

energetic proceedings by the screams with which Miss Patty had now

begun to shrilly echo Mr. Roarer's deep-mouthed bellowings - waited

for his approach, and then, as the bull rushed on him - like a

massive rock hurled forward by an avalanche - he leaped aside, nimble

as a doubling hare. As he did so, he threw down his wide-awake,

which the irate Mr. Roarer forthwith fell upon, and tossed, and

tossed, and tore into shreds. By this time, Verdant had reached the

bank of the Swirl; but before he could proceed further, the

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 237]

bull was upon him again. Verdant was prepared for this, and had

taken off his coat. As the bull dashed heavily towards him, with

head bent wickedly to the ground, Verdant again doubled, and, with

the dexterity of a matador, threw his coat upon the horns. Blinded

by this, Mr. Roarer's headlong career was temporarily checked; and it

was three minutes before he had torn to shreds the imaginary body of

his enemy; but this three minutes' pause was of very great

importance, and in all probability prevented the memoirs of Mr.

Verdant Green from coming to an untimely end at this portion of the

narrative.

Miss Patty's continued screams had been signals of distress that had

not only brought up Charles Larkyns, but four labourers also, who

were working in a field within ear-shot. This ~corps de reserve~ ran

up to the spot with all speed, shouting as they did so, in order to

distract Mr. Roarer's attention. By this time Mr. Verdant Green had

waded into the water, and was making the best of his way across the

Swirl, in order that he might reach the precipitous hill to the

right; up this he could scramble and bid defiance to Mr. Roarer. But

there is many a slip 'tween cup and lip. Poor Verdant chanced to

make a stepping-stone of a treacherous boulder, and fell headlong

into the water; and ere he could regain his feet, the bull had

plunged with a bellow into the stream, and was within a yard of his

prostrate form, when -

When you may imagine Mr. Verdant Green's delight and Miss Patty

Honeywood's thankfulness at seeing one of the labourers run into the

stream, and strike the bull a heavy stroke with a sharp hoe, the pain

of which wound caused Mr. Roarer to suddenly wheel round and engage

with his new adversary, who followed up his advantage, and cut into

his enemy with might and main. Then Charles Larkyns and the other

three labourers came up, and the bull was prevented from doing an

injury to any one until a farm-servant had arrived upon the scene

with a strong halter, when Mr. Roarer, somewhat spent with wrath, and

suffering from considerable depression of animal spirits, was

conducted to the obscure retirement and littered ease of the

bull-house.

This little adventure has been recorded here, inasmuch as from it was

forged, by the hand of Cupid, a golden link in our hero's chain of

fate; for to this occurrence Miss Patty attached no slight

importance. She exalted Mr. Verdant Green's conduct on this occasion

into an act of heroism worthy to be ranked with far more notable

deeds of valour. She looked upon him as a Bayard who had

chivalrously risked his life in the cause of - love, was it? or only

of - a lady. Her gratitude, she considered, ought to be very great

to one who had, at so great a venture, preserved her from so horrible

a death. For

[238 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

that she would have been dreadfully gored, and would have lost her

life, if she had not been rescued by Mr. Verdant Green, Miss Patty

had most fully and unalterably decided - which, certainly, might have

been the case.

At any rate, our hero had no reason to regret that portion of his

life's drama in which Mr. Roarer had made his appearance.

CHAPTER III.

MR. VERDANT GREEN STUDIES YE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF YE

NATYVES.

<VG238.JPG> MISS Patty Honeywood was not only distinguished for

unlimited powers of conversation, but was also equally famous for her

equestrian abilities. She and her sister were the first horsewomen

in that part of the county; and, if their father had permitted, they

would have been delighted to ride to hounds, and to cross country

with the foremost flight, for they had pluck enough for anything.

They had such light hands and good seats, and in every respect rode

so well, that, as a matter of course, they looked well - never

better, perhaps, than - when on horseback. Their bright, happy faces

- which were far more beautiful in their piquant irregularities of

feature, and gave one far more pleasure in the contemplation than if

they had been moulded in the coldly chiselled forms of classic beauty

- appeared with no diminution of charms, when set off by their pretty

felt riding-hats; and their full, firm, and well-rounded figures were

seen to the greatest advantage when clad in the graceful dress that

passes by the name of a riding-habit.

Every morning, after breakfast, the two young ladies were accustomed

to visit the stables, where they had interviews with their respective

steeds - steeds and mistresses appearing to be equally gratified

thereby. It is perhaps needless to state that during Mr. Verdant

Green's sojourn at Honeywood Hall, Miss Patty's stable calls were

generally made in his company.

Such rides as they took in those happy days - wild, pic-nic sort of

rides, over country equally as wild and removed from

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 239]

formality - rides by duets and rides in duodecimos; sometimes a

solitary couple or two; sometimes a round dozen of them, scampering

and racing over hill and heather, with startled grouse and black-cock

skirring up from under the very hoofs of the equally startled

horses;- rides by tumbling streams, like the Swirl - splashing

through them, with pulled-up or draggled habits - then cantering on

"over bank, bush, and scaur," like so many fair Ellens and young

Lochinvars - clambering up very precipices, and creeping down

break-neck hills - laughing <VG239.JPG> and talking, and singing, and

whistling, and even (so far as Mr. Bouncer was concerned) blowing

cows' horns! What vagabond, rollicking rides were those! What a

healthy contrast to the necessarily formal, groom-attended canter on

Society's Rotten Row!

A legion of dogs accompanied them on these occasions; a miscellaneous

pack composed of Masters Huz and Buz (in great spirits at finding

themselves in such capital quarters), a black Newfoundland (answering

to the name of "Nigger"), a couple of setters (with titles from the

heathen mythology - "Juno" and "Flora"), a ridiculous-looking,

bandy-legged otter-hound (called "Gripper"), a wiry, rat-catching

terrier ("Nipper"), and two silky-haired, long-backed, short-legged,

sharp-nosed, bright-eyed, pepper-and-salt Skye-terriers, who

respectively answered to the names of "Whisky" and "Toddy," and were

the property of the Misses Honeywood. The lordly shepherds' dogs,

whom they encountered on their journeys, would have nothing to do

with such a medley of unruly scamps, but turned from their overtures

of friendship with patrician disdain. They routed up rabbits; they

turned

[240 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

out hedgehogs; and, at their approach, they made the game fly with a

WHIR-R-R-R-R-R-R arranged as a ~diminuendo~.

These free-and-easy equestrian expeditions were not only agreeable to

Mr. Verdant Green's feelings, but they were also useful to him as so

many lessons of horsemanship, and so greatly advanced him in the

practice of that noble science, that the admiring Squire one day said

to him - "I'll tell you what, Verdant! before we've done with you, we

shall make you ride <VG240.JPG> like a Shafto!" At which high

eulogium Mr. Verdant Green blushed, and made an inward resolution

that, as soon as he had returned home, he would subscribe to the

Warwickshire hounds, and make his appearance in the field.

On Sundays the Honeywood party usually rode and drove to the church

of a small market-town, some seven or eight miles distant. If it was

a wet day, they walked to the ruined church of Lasthope - the place

Miss Patty was sketching when disturbed by Mr. Roarer. Lasthope was

in lay hands; and its lay rector, who lived far away, had so little

care for the edifice, or the proper conduct of divine service, that

he allowed the one to continue in its ruins, and suffered the other

to be got through anyhow, or not at all - just as it happened.

Clergymen were engaged to perform the service (there was but one each

day) at the lowest price of the clerical market. Occasionally it was

announced, in the vernacular of the district, that there would be no

church, "because the priest had gone for the sea-bathing," or because

the waters were out, and the priest could not get

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 241]

across. As a matter of course, in consequence of the uncertainty of

finding any one to perform the service when they had got to church,

and of the slovenly way in which the service was scrambled through

when they had got a clergyman there, the congregation generally

preferred attending the large Presbyterian meeting-house, which was

about two miles from Lasthope. Here, at any rate, they met with the

reverse of coldness in the conduct of the service.

Mr. Verdant Green and his male friends strayed there one Sunday for

curiosity's sake, and found a minister of indefatigable eloquence and

enviable power of lungs, who had arrived at such a pitch of heat,

from the combined effects of the weather and his own exertions, that

in the very middle of his discourse - and literally in the heat of it

- he paused to divest himself of his gown, heavily braided with serge

and velvet, and, hanging it over the side of the pulpit ("the

pilput," his congregation called it), mopped his head with his

handkerchief, and then pursued his theme like a giant refreshed. At

this stage in the proceedings, little Mr. Bouncer became in a high

state of pleasurable excitement, from the expectation that the

minister would next divest himself of his coat, and would struggle

through the rest of his argument in his shirt-sleeves; but Mr.

Bouncer's improper wishes were not gratified.

The sermon was so extremely metaphorical, was founded on such

abstruse passages, and was delivered in so broad a dialect, that it

was ~caviare~ to Mr. Verdant Green and his friends; but it seemed to

be far otherwise with the attentive and crowded congregation, who

relieved their minister at intervals by loud bursts of singing, that

were impressive from their fervency though not particularly

harmonious to a delicately-musical ear. Near to the close of the

service there was a collection, which induced Mr. Bouncer to whisper

to Verdant - as an axiom deduced from his long experience - that "you

never come to a strange place, but what you are sure to drop in for a

collection;" but, on finding that it was a weekly offering, and that

no one was expected to give more than a copper, the little gentleman

relented, and cheerfully dropped a piece of silver into the wooden

box. It was astonishing to see the throngs of people, that, in so

thinly inhabited a district, could be assembled at this

meeting-house. Though it seemed almost incredible to our

midland-county friends, yet not a few of these poor, simple,

earnest-minded people would walk from a distance of fifteen miles,

starting at an early hour, coming by easy stages, and bringing with

them their dinner, so as to enable them to stay for the afternoon

service. On the Sunday mornings the red cloaks and grey plaids of

these pious men and women might be seen dotting the green

hillsides,and slowly moving towards

[242 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

the gaunt and grim red brick meeting-house. And around it, on great

occasions, were tents pitched for the between-service accommodation

of the worshippers.

Both they and it contrasted, in every way, with the ruined church of

Lasthope, whose worship seemed also to have gone to ruin with the

uncared-for edifice. Its aisles had tumbled down, and their material

had been rudely built up within the arches of the nave. The church

was thus converted into the non-ecclesiastical form of a

parallelogram, and was fitted up with the very rudest and ugliest of

deal enclosures, which were dignified with the names of pews, but

ought to have been termed pens.

During the time of Mr. Verdant Green's visit, the service at this

ecclesiastical ruin was performed by a clergyman who had apparently

been selected for the duty from his harmonious resemblance to the

place; for he also was an ecclesiastical ruin - a schoolmaster in

holy orders, who, having to slave hard all through the working-days

of the week, had to work still harder on the day of rest. For,

first, the Ruin had to ride his stumbling old pony a distance of

twelve miles (and twelve ~such~ miles!) to Lasthope, where he stabled

it (bringing the feed of corn in his pocket, and leading it to drink

at the Swirl) in the dilapidated stable of the tumbled-down

rectory-house. Then he had to get through the morning service

without any loss of time, to enable him to ride eight miles in

another direction (eating his sandwich dinner as he went along),

where he had to take the afternoon duty and occasional services at a

second church. When this was done, he might find his way home as

well as he could, and enjoy with his family as much of the day of

rest as he had leisure and strength for. The stipend that the Ruin

received for his labours was greatly below the wages given to a

butler by the lay rector, who pocketed a very nice income by this

respectable transaction. But the Butler was a stately edifice in

perfect repair, both outside and in, so far as clothes and food went;

and the Parson was an ill-conditioned Ruin left to moulder away in an

obscure situation, without even the ivy of luxuriance to make him

graceful and picturesque.

Mr. Honeywood's family were the only "respectable" persons who

occasionally attended the Ruin's ministrations in Lasthope church.

The other people who made up the scanty congregation were old Andrew

Graham and his children, and a few of the poorer sort of Honeybourn.

They all brought their dogs with them as a matter of course. On

entering the church the men hung up their bonnets on a row of pegs

provided for that purpose, and fixed, as an ecclesiastical ornament,

along the western wall of the church. They then took their places in

their pens, accompanied by their dogs, who usually behaved with

remarkable propriety, and, during the sermon, set their

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 243]

masters an example of watchfulness. On one occasion the proceedings

were interrupted by a rat hunt; the dogs gave tongue, and leaped the

pews in the excitement of the chase - their masters followed them and

laid about them with their sticks - and when with difficulty order

had been restored, the service was proceeded with. It must be

confessed that Mr. Bouncer was so badly disposed as to wish for a

repetition of this scene; but (happily) he was disappointed.

The choir of Lasthope Church was centred in the person of the clerk,

who apparently sang tunes of his own composing, in which the

congregation joined at their discretion, though usually to different

airs. The result was a discordant struggle, through which the clerk

bravely maintained his own until he had exhausted himself, when he

shut up his book and sat down, and the congregation had to shut up

also. During the singing the intelligence of the dogs was displayed

in their giving a stifled utterance to howls of anguish, which were

repeated ~ad libitum~ throughout the hymn; but as this was a

customary proceeding it attracted no attention, unless a dog

expressed his sufferings more loudly than was wont, when he received

a clout from his master's staff that silenced him, and sent him under

the pew-seat, as to a species of ecclesiastical St. Helena.

Such was Lasthope Church, its Ruin, and its service; and, as may be

imagined from these notes which the veracious historian has thought

fit to chronicle, Mr. Verdant Green found that his Sundays in

Northumberland produced as much novelty as the week-days.

CHAPTER IV.

MR. VERDANT GREEN ENDEAVOURS TO SAY SNIP TO SOME ONE'S SNAP.

THERE was a gate in the kitchen-garden of Honeywood Hall, that led

into an orchard; and in this orchard there was a certain apple-tree

that had assumed one of those peculiarities of form to which the

children of Pomona are addicted. After growing upright for about a

foot and a half, it had suddenly shot out at right angles, with a

gentle upward slope for a length of between three and four feet, and

had then again struck up into the perpendicular. It thus formed a

natural orchard seat, capable of holding two persons comfortably -

provided that they regarded a close proximity as comfortable sitting.

One day Miss Patty directed Verdant's attention to this vagary of

nature. "This is one of my favourite haunts," she said. "I often

steal here on a hot day with some work or a

[244 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

book. You see this upper branch makes quite a little table, and I

can rest my book upon it. It is so pleasant to be under the shade

here, with the fruit or blossoms over one's head; and it is so snug

and retired, and out of the way of every one."

"It ~is~ very snug - and very retired," said Mr. Verdant Green; and

he thought that now would be the very time to put in execution a

project that had for some days past been haunting his brain.

"When Kitty and I," said Miss Patty, "have any secrets we come here

and tell them to each other while we sit at our work. No one can

hear what we say; and we are quite snug all to ourselves."

Very odd, thought Verdant, that they should fix on this particular

spot for confidential communications, and take the trouble to come

here to make them, when they could do so in their own rooms at the

house. And yet it isn't such a bad spot either.

"Try how comfortable a seat it is!" said Miss Patty.

Mr. Verdant Green began to feel hot. He sat down, however, and

tested the comforts of the seat, much in the same way as he would try

the spring of a lounging chair, and apparently with a like result,

for he said, "Yes it ~is~ very comfortable - very comfortable indeed."

"I thought you'd like it," said Miss Patty; "and you see how nicely

the branches droop all round: they make it quite an arbour. If Kitty

had been here with me I think you would have had some trouble to have

found us."

"I think I should; it is quite a place to hide in," said Verdant.

But the young lady and gentleman must have been speaking with the

spirit of ostriches, and have imagined that, when they had hidden

their heads, they had altogether concealed themselves from

observation; for the branches of the apple-tree only drooped low

enough to conceal the upper part of their figures, and left the rest

exposed to view. "Won't you sit down, also?" asked Verdant, with a

gasp and a sensation in his head as though he had been drinking

champagne too freely.

"I'm afraid there's scarcely room for me," pleaded Miss Patty.

"Oh yes, there is, indeed! pray sit down."

So she sat down on the lower part of the trunk. Mr. Verdant Green

glanced rapidly round and perceived that they were quite alone, and

partly shrouded from view. The following highly interesting

conversation then took place.

~He.~ "Won't you change places with me? you'll slip off."

~She.~ "No - I think I can manage."

~He.~ "But you can come closer."

~She.~ "Thanks." (~She comes closer.~)

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 245]

~He.~ "Isn't that more comfortable?"

~She.~ "Yes - very much."

~He.~ (~Very hot, and not knowing what to say~) - "I - I think you'll

slip!"

~She.~ "Oh no! it's very comfortable indeed."

(That is to say - thinks Mr. Verdant Green-that sitting BY ME is very

comfortable. Hurrah!)

~She.~ "It's very hot, don't you think?"

~He.~ "How very odd! I was just thinking the same."

~She.~ "I think I shall take my hat off - it is so warm. Dear me!

how stupid! - the strings are in a knot."

~He.~ "Let me see if I can untie them for you."

~She.~ "Thanks! no! I can manage." (~But she cannot.~)

~He.~ "You'd better let me try! now do!"

~She.~ "Oh, thanks! but I'm sorry you should have the trouble."

~He.~ "No trouble at all. Quite a pleasure."

In a very hot condition of mind and fingers, Mr. Verdant Green then

endeavoured to release the strings from their entanglement. But all

in vain: he tugged, and pulled, and only made matters worse. Once or

twice in the struggle his hands touched Miss Patty's chin; and no

highly-charged electrical machine could have imparted a shock greater

than that tingling sensation of pleasure which Mr. Verdant Green

experienced when his fingers, for the fraction of a second, touched

Miss Patty's soft dimpled chin. Then there was her beautiful neck,

so white, and with such blue veins! he had an irresistible desire to

stroke it for its very smoothness - as one loves to feel the polish

of marble, or the glaze of wedding cards - instead of employing his

hands in fumbling at the brown ribands, whose knots became more

complicated than ever. Then there was her happy rosy face, so close

to which his own was brought; and her bright, laughing, hazel eyes,

in which, as he timidly looked up, he saw little daguerreotypes of

himself. Would that he could retain such a photographer by his side

through life! Miss Bouncer's camera was as nothing compared with the

~camera lucida~ of those clear eyes, that shone upon him so

truthfully, and mirrored for him such pretty pictures. And what with

these eyes, and the face, and the chin, and the neck, Mr. Verdant

Green was brought into such an irretrievable state of mental

excitement that he was perfectly unable to render Miss Patty the

service he had proffered. But, more than that, he as yet lacked

sufficient courage to carry out his darling project.

At length Miss Patty herself untied the rebellious knot, and took off

her hat. The highly interesting conversation was then resumed.

~She.~ "What a frightful state my hair is in!" (~Loops up an

[246 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

escaped lock.~) "You must think me so untidy. But out in the

country, and in a place like this where no one sees us, it makes one

careless of appearance."

~He.~ "I like 'a sweetneglect,' especially in - in some people; it

suits them so well. I - 'pon my word, it's very hot!"

~She.~ "But how much hotter it must be from under the shade. It is

so pleasant here. It seems so dreamlike to sit among the shadows and

look out upon the bright landscape."

~He.~ "It ~is~ - very jolly - soothing, at least!" (~A pause.~) "I

think you'll slip. Do you know, I think it will be safer if you will

let me" (~here his courage fails him. He endeavours to say~ put my

arm round your waist, ~but his tongue refuses to speak the words; so

he substitutes~) "change places with you."

~She.~ (~Rises, with a look of amused vexation.~) "Certainly! If you

so particularly wish it." (~They change places.~) "Now, you see, you

have lost by the change. You are too tall for that end of the seat,

and it did very nicely for a little body like me."

~He.~ (~With a thrill of delight and a sudden burst of strategy.~) "I

can hold on to this branch, if my arm will not inconvenience you."

~She.~ "Oh no! not particularly:" (~he passes his right arm behind

her, and takes hold of a bough:~) "but I should think it's not very

comfortable for you."

~He.~ "I couldn't be more comfortable, I'm sure." (~Nearly slips off

the tree, and doubles up his legs into an unpicturesque attitude

highly suggestive of misery. - A pause~) "And do you tell your

secrets here?"

~She.~ "My secrets? Oh, I see - you mean, with Kitty. Oh, yes! if

this tree could talk, it would be able to tell such dreadful stories."

~He.~ "I wonder if it could tell any dreadful stories of - ~me?~"

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 247]

~She.~ "Of you? Oh, no! Why should it? We are only severe on those we

dislike."

~He.~ "Then you don't dislike me?"

~She.~ "No! - why should we?"

~He.~ "Well - I don't know - but I thought you might. Well, I'm glad

of that - I'm ~very~ glad of that. 'Pon my word, it's ~very~ hot!

don't you think so?"

~She.~ "Yes! I'm burning. But I don't think we should find a cooler

place." (~Does not evince any symptoms of moving.~)

~He.~ "Well, p'raps we shouldn't." (~A pause.~) "Do you know that I'm

very glad you don't dislike me; because, it wouldn't have been

pleasant to be disliked by you, would it?"

~She.~ "Well - of course, I can't tell. It depends upon one's own

feelings."

~He.~ "Then you don't dislike me?"

~She.~ "Oh dear, no! why should I?"

~He.~ "And if you don't dislike me, you must like me?"

~She.~ "Yes - at least - yes, I suppose so."

At this stage of the proceedings, the arm that Mr. Verdant Green had

passed behind Miss Patty thrilled with such a peculiar sensation that

his hand slipped down the bough, and the arm consequently came

against Miss Patty's waist, where it rested. The necessity for

saying something, the wish to make that something the something that

was bursting his heart and brain, and the dread of letting it escape

his lips - these three varied and mingled sensations so distracted

poor Mr. Verdant Green's mind, that he was no more conscious of what

he was giving utterance to than if he had been talking in a dream.

But there was Miss Patty by his side - a very tangible and delightful

reality - playing (somewhat nervously) with those rebellious strings

of her hat, which loosely hung in her hand, while the dappled shadows

flickered on the waving masses of her rich brown hair, - so something

must be said; and, if it should lead to ~the~ something, why, so much

the better.

Returning, therefore, to the subject of like and dislike, Mr. Verdant

Green managed to say, in a choking, faltering tone, "I wonder how

much you like me - very much?"

~She.~ "Oh, I couldn't tell - how should I? What strange questions

you ask! You saved my life; so, of course, I am very, very grateful;

and I hope I shall always be your friend."

~He.~ "Yes, I hope so indeed - always - and something more. Do you

hope the same?"

~She.~ "What ~do~ you mean? Hadn't we better go back to the house?"

~He.~ "Not just yet - it's so cool here - at least, not cool exactly,

but hot - pleasanter, that is - much pleasanter here.

[248 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

~You~ said so, you know, a little while since. Don't mind me; I

always feel hot when - when I'm out of doors."

~She.~ "Then we'd better go indoors."

~He.~ "Pray don't - not yet - do stop a little longer."

And the hand that had been on the bough of the tree, timidly seized

Miss Patty's arm, and then naturally, but very gently, fell upon her

waist. A thrill shot through Mr. Verdant Green, like an electric

flash, and, after traversing from his head to his heels, probably

passed out safely at his boots - for it did him no harm, but, on the

contrary, made him feel all the better.

"But," said the young lady, as she felt the hand upon her waist - not

that she was really displeased at the proceeding, but perhaps she

thought it best, under the circumstances, to say something that

should have the resemblance of a veto - "but it is not necessary to

hold me a prisoner."

"It's ~you~ that hold ~me~ a prisoner!" said Mr. Verdant Green, with

a sudden burst of enthusiasm and blushes, and a great stress upon the

pronouns.

"Now you are talking nonsense, and, if so, I must go!" said Miss

Patty. And she also blushed; perhaps it was from the heat. But she

removed Mr. Verdant Green's hand from her waist, and he was much too

frightened to replace it.

"Oh! ~do~ stay a little!" gasped the young gentleman, with an awkward

sensation of want of employment for his hands. "You said that

secrets were told here. I don't want to talk nonsense; I don't

indeed; but the truth. ~I've~ a secret to tell you. Should you like

to hear it?"

"Oh yes!" laughed Miss Patty. "I like to hear secrets." Now, how

very absurd it was in Mr. Verdant Green wasting time in beating about

the bush in this ridiculously timid way! Why could he not at once

boldly secure his bird by a straightforward shot? She did not fly out

of his range - did she? And yet, here he was making himself

unnecessarily hot and uncomfortable, when he might, by taking it

coolly, have been at his ease in a moment. What a foolish young man!

Nay, he still further lost time and evaded his purpose, by saying

once again to Miss Patty - instead of immediately replying to her

observation - "'Pon my word, it's uncommonly hot! don't you think so?"

Upon which Miss Patty replied, with some little chagrin, "And was

that your secret?" If she had lived in the Elizabethan era she

could have adjured him with a "Marry, come up!" which would have

brought him to the point without any further trouble; but living in a

Victorian age, she could do no more than say what she did, and leave

the rest of her meaning to the language of the eyes.

"Don't laugh at me!" urged the bashful and weak-minded

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 249]

young man; "don't laugh at me! If you only knew what I feel when you

laugh at me, you'd" -

"Cry, I dare say!" said Miss Patty, cutting him short with a merry

smile, and (it must be confessed) a most wickedly-roguish expression

about those bright flashing hazel eyes of hers. "Now, you haven't

told me this wonderful secret!"

"Why," said Mr. Verdant Green, slowly and deliberately - feeling that

his time was coming on, and cowardly anxious still to fight off the

fatal words - "you said that you didn't dislike me; and, in fact,

that you liked me very much; and" -

But here Miss Patty cut him short again. She turned sharply round

upon him, with those bright eyes and that merry face, and said, "Oh!

how ~can~ you say so? I never said anything of the sort!"

"Well," said Mr. Verdant Green, who was now desperate, and mentally

prepared to take the dreaded plunge into that throbbing sea that

beats upon the strand of matrimony, "whether ~you~ like ~me~ very

much or not, ~I~ like ~you~ very much! - very much indeed! Ever

since I saw you, since last Christmas, I've - I've liked you - very

much indeed."

Mr. Verdant Green, in a very hot and excited state, had, <VG249.JPG>

while he was speaking, timidly brought his hand once more to Miss

Patty's waist; and she did not interfere with its position. In fact,

she was bending down her head, and was gazing intently on another

knot that she had wilfully made in her hat-strings; and she was

working so violently at that occupation of untying the knot, that

very probably she might not have been aware of the situation of Mr.

Verdant Green's hand. At any rate, her own hands were too much

busied to suffer her to interfere with his.

[250 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

At last the climax had arrived. Mr. Verdant Green had screwed his

courage to the sticking point, and had resolved to tell the secret of

his love. He had got to the very edge of the precipice, and was on

the point of jumping over head and ears into the stream of his

destiny, and of bursting into any excited form of words that should

make known his affection and his designs, when - when a vile perfume

of tobacco, a sudden barking rush of Huz and Buz, and the horrid

voice of little Mr. Bouncer, dispelled the bright vision, dispersed

his ideas, and prevented the fulfilment of his purpose.

"Holloa, Giglamps!" roared the little gentleman, as he removed a

short pipe from his mouth, and expelled an ascending curl of smoke;

"I've been looking for you everywhere! Here we are, - as Hamlet's

uncle said, - all in the horchard! I hope he's not been pouring poison

in ~your~ ear, Miss Honeywood; he looks rather guilty. The Mum - I

mean your mother - sent me to find you. The luncheon's been on the

table more than an hour!"

Luckily for Mr. Verdant Green and Miss Patty Honeywood, little Mr.

Bouncer rattled on without waiting for any reply to his observations,

and thus enabled the young lady to somewhat recover her presence of

mind, and to effect a hasty retreat from under the apple tree, and

through the garden gate.

"I say, old feller," said Mr. Bouncer, as he criticized Mr. Verdant

Green's countenance over the bowl of his pipe, "you look rather in a

stew! What's up? My gum!" cried the little gentleman, as an idea of

the truth suddenly flashed upon him; "you don't mean to say you've

been doing the spooney - what you call making love - have you?"

"Oh!" groaned the person addressed, as he followed out the train of

his own ideas; "if you ~had~ but have come five minutes later - or

not at all! It's most provoking!"

"Well, you're a grateful bird, I don't think!" said Mr. Bouncer. "Cut

after her into luncheon, and have it out over the cold mutton and

pickles!"

"Oh no!" responded the luckless lover; "I can't' eat - especially

before the others! I mean - I couldn't talk to her before the others.

Oh! I don't know what I'm saying."

"Well, I don't think you do, old feller!" said Mr. Bouncer, puffing

away at his pipe. "I'm sorry I was in the road, though! because,

though I fight shy of those sort of things myself, yet I don't want

to interfere with the little weaknesses of other folks. But come and

have a pipe, old feller, and we'll talk matters over, and see what

pips are on the cards, and what's the state of the game."

Now, a pipe was Mr. Bouncer's panacea for every kind of

indisposition, both mental and bodily.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 251]

CHAPTER V.

MR. VERDANT GREEN MEETS WITH THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER.

<VG251.JPG> MENTION had frequently been made by the members of the

Honeywood family, but more especially by Miss Patty, of a cousin - a

male cousin - to whom they all seemed to be exceedingly partial - far more

partial, as Mr. Verdant Green thought, with regard to Miss Patty, than he

would have wished her to have been. This cousin was Mr. Frank

Delaval, a son of their father's sister. According to their

description, he possessed good looks, and an equivalently good

fortune, with all sorts of accomplishments, both useful and

ornamental; and was, in short (in their eyes at least), a very

admirable Crichton of the nineteenth century.

Mr. Verdant Green had heard from Miss Patty so much of her cousin

Frank, and of the pleasure they were anticipating from a visit he had

promised shortly to make to them, that he had at length begun to

suspect that the young lady's maiden meditations were not altogether

"fancy free," and that her thoughts dwelt upon this handsome cousin

far more than was palatable to Mr. Verdant Green's feelings. In the

most unreasonable manner, therefore, he conceived a violent antipathy

to Mr. Frank Delaval, even before he had set eyes upon him, and

considered that the Honeywood family had, one and all, greatly

overrated him. But these suppositions and suspicions made him doubly

anxious to come to an understanding with Miss Patty before the

arrival of the dreaded Adonis; and it was this thought that had

helped to nerve him through the terrors of the orchard scene, and

which, but for Mr. Bouncer's ~malapropos~ intrusion, would have

brought things to a crisis.

However, after he had had a talk with Mr. Bouncer, and had been

fortified by that little gentleman's pithy admonitions to "go in and

win," and to "strike while the iron's hot," and that "faint heart

never won a nice young 'ooman," he determined to seek out Miss Patty

at once, and bring to an end their unfinished conversation. For this

purpose he returned to the hall, where he found a great commotion,

and a carriage at the door; and out of the carriage jumped a handsome

young man, with a black moustache, who ran up to the open hall-door

(where Miss Patty

[252 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

was standing with her sister), seized Miss Kitty by the hand, and

placed his moustache under her nose, and then seized Miss Patty by

~her~ hand, and removed the moustache to beneath ~her~ nose! And all

this unblushingly and as a matter of course, out in the sunshine, and

before the servants! Mr. Verdant Green retreated without having been

seen, and, plunging into the shrubbery, told his woes to the

evergreens, and while he listened to

"The dry-tongued laurel's pattering talk,"

he thought, "It is as I feared! I am nothing more to her than a

simple friend." Though, why he so morosely arrived at this idea it

would be hard to say. Perhaps other jealous lovers have been

similarly unreasonable and unreasoning in their conclusions, and, of

their own accord, run to the dark side of the cloud, when they might

have pleasantly remained within its silver lining.

But when Frank Delaval had been seen, and heard, and made

acquaintance with, Verdant, who was much too simple-hearted to

dislike any one without just grounds for so doing, entered (even

after half an hour's knowledge) into the band of his <VG252.JPG>

admirers; and that same evening, in the drawing-room, while Miss

Kitty was playing one of Schulhoff's mazurkas, with her moustached

cousin standing by her side, and turning over the music-leaves,

Verdant privately declared, over a chessboard, to Miss Patty, that

Mr. Frank Delaval was the handsomest and most delightful man he had

ever met. And when Miss Patty's eyes sparkled at this proof of his

truth and disinterestedness, Verdant mistook the bright signals; and

further misconstruing

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 253]

the cause why (as they continued to speak of her cousin) she made a

most egregious blunder, that caused her opponent to pronounce the

word "Mated!" he regarded it as a fatal omen, more especially as Mr.

Frank came to her side at that very moment; and when the young lady

laughed, and said, "What a goose I am! whatever could I have been

thinking of?" he thought within himself (persisting in his illogical

and perverse conclusions), "It is very plain what she is thinking

about! I was afraid that she loved him, and now I know it." So he put

up the chess-men, while she went to the piano with her cousin; and he

even wished that Mr. Bouncer had interrupted their apple-tree

conversation at its commencement; but was thankful to him for coming

in time to save him from the pain of being rejected in favour of

another. Then, in five minutes, he changed his mind, and had decided

that it would have spared him much misery if he could have heard his

fate from his Patty's own lips. Then he wished that he had never

come to Northumberland at all, and began to think how he should spend

his time in the purgatory that Honeywood Hall would now be to him.

When they separated for the night, HE again placed his moustache

beneath HER nose. Mr. Verdant Green turned away his head at such a

sickly exhibition. It was a presumption upon cousinship. Charles

Larkyns did not kiss her; and he was equally as much her cousin as

Frank Delaval.

And yet, when the young men went into the back kitchen for a pipe and

a chat before going to bed, Verdant was so delighted with that

handsome cousin Frank, that he thought, "If I was a girl, I should

think as ~she~ does."

"And why should she not love him?" meditated the poor fellow, when he

was lying awake in his bed that self-same night, rendered sleepless

by the pain of his new wound; "why should she not love him? how could

she do otherwise? thrown together as they have been from children -

speaking to each other as 'Patty' and 'Fred'- kissing each other -

and being as brother and sister. Would that they were so! How he

kept near her all the evening - coming to her even when she was

playing chess with ~me~, then singing with her, and playing her

accompaniments. She said that no one could play her accompaniments

like ~he~ could - he had such good taste, and such a firm, delicate

touch. Then, when they talked about sketching, she said how she had

missed him, and that she had been reserving the view from Brankham

Law, in order that they might sketch it together. Then he showed her

his last drawings - and they were beautiful. What can I do against

this?" groaned poor Verdant, from under the bed-clothes; "he has

accomplishments, and I have none; he has good looks, and I haven't;

[254 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

he has a moustache and a pair of whiskers, - and I have only a pair of

spectacles! I cannot shine in society, and win admiration, like he

does; I have nothing to offer her but my love. Lucky fellow! he is

worthier of her than I am - and I hope they will be very happy." At

which thought, Verdant felt highly the reverse, and went off into

dismal dreams.

In the morning, when Miss Patty and her cousin were setting out for

the hill called Brankham Law, Verdant, who had retreated to a

garden-seat beneath a fine old cedar, was roused from a very

abstracted perusal of "The Dream of Fair Women," by the apparition of

one who, in his eyes, was fairer than them all.

"I have been searching for you everywhere," said Miss Patty. "Mamma

said that you were not riding with the others, so I knew that you

must be somewhere about. I think I shall lock up my ~Tennyson~, if

it takes you so much out of our society. Won't you come up Brankham

Law with Frank and me?"

"Willingly if you wish it," answered Verdant, though with an

unwilling air; "but of what use can I be? - Othello's occupation is

gone. Your cousin can fill my place much better than if I were

there." "How very ungrateful you are!" said Miss Patty; "you really

deserve a good scolding! I allow you to watch me when I am painting,

in order that you may gain a lesson, and just when you are beginning

to learn something, then you give up. But, at any rate, take Fred

for your master, and come and watch ~him~; he ~can~ draw. If you

were to go to any of the great men to have a lesson of them, all that

they would do would be to paint before you, and leave you to look on

and pick up what knowledge you could. I know that ~I~ cannot draw

anything worth looking at, -"

"Indeed, but -"

"But Fred," continued Miss Patty, who was going at too great a pace

to be stopped, "but Fred is as good as many masters that you would

meet with; so it will be an advantage to you to come and look over

him."

"I think I should prefer to look over you."

"Now you are paying compliments, and I don't like them. But, if you

will come, you will really be useful. You see I am mercenary in my

wishes, after all. Here is Fred with a load of sketching materials;

won't you take pity on him, and relieve him of my share of his

burden?"

If I could take ~you~ off his hands, thought Verdant, I should be

better pleased. But Miss Patty won the day; and Verdant took

possession of her sketching-block and drawing materials, and set off

with them to Brankham Law.

Frederick Delaval was a yachtsman, and owner of the ~Fleur-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 255]

de-lys~, a cutter yacht, of fifty tons. Besides being inclined to

amateur nautical pursuits, he was also partial to an amateur nautical

costume; and he further dressed the character of a yachtsman by

slinging round him his telescope, which was protected from storms and

salt water by a leathern case. This telescope was, in a moment,

uncased and brought to bear upon everybody and everything, at every

opportunity, in proper nautical fashion, being used by him for

distant objects as other people would use an eyeglass for nearer

things. And no sooner had they arrived at the grassy ~plateau~ that

marked the summit of Brankham Law, than the telescope was unslung,

and its proprietor swept the horizon - for there was a distant view

of the ocean - in search of the ~Fleur-de-lys~.

"I am afraid," he said, "that we shall not be able to make

<VG255.JPG> her out; the distance is almost too great to distinguish

her from other vessels, although the whiteness of her sails would

assist us to a recognition. If the skipper got under way at the hour

I told him, he ought about this time to be rounding the headland that

you see stretching out yonder."

"I think I see a white sail in that direction," said Miss Patty, as

she shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked out earnestly in the

required quarter.

"My dear Patty," laughed her cousin, "if you knew anything of

nautical matters, you would see that it was not a cutter yacht, for

she has more than one mast; though, certainly, as you saw her, she

seemed to have but one, for she was just coming about, and was in

stays."

[256 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

"In stays!" exclaimed Miss Patty; "why what singular expressions you

sailors have!"

"Oh yes!" said Frederick Delaval, "and some vessels have waists -

like young ladies. But now I think I see the ~Fleur-de-lys~! that

gaff tops'l yard was never carried by a coasting vessel. To be sure

it is! the skipper knows how to handle her; and, if the breeze holds,

she will soon reach her port. Come and have a look at her, Patty,

while I rest the glass for you." So he balanced it on his shoulder,

while Miss Patty looked through it with her one eye, and placed her

fingers upon the other - after the manner of young ladies when they

look through a telescope; and then burst into such animated, but not

thoughtful observations, as "Oh! I can see it quite plainly. Oh! it

is rolling about so! Oh! there are two little men in it! Oh! one of

them's pulling a rope! Oh! it all seems to be brought so near!" as if

there had been some doubt on the matter, and she had expected the

telescope to make things invisible. Miss Patty was quite in childish

delight at watching the ~Fleur-de-lys~' movements, and seemed to

forget all about the proposed sketch, although Mr. Verdant Green had

found her a comfortable rock seat, and had placed her drawing

materials ready for use.

"How happy and confiding they are!" he thought, as he gazed upon them

thus standing together; "they seem to be made for each other. He is

far more fitted for her than I am. I wonder if I shall ever see them

after they are - married. ~I~ shall never be married." And, after

this morbid fashion, the young gentleman took a melancholy pleasure

in arranging his future.

It was about this time that the divine afflatus - which had lain

almost dormant since his boyish "Address to the Moon" - was again

manifested in him by the production of numberless poetical effusions,

in which his own poignant anguish and Miss Patty's incomparable

attractions were brought forward in verses of various degrees of

mediocrity. They were also equally varied in their style and

treatment; one being written in a fierce and gloomy Byronic strain,

while another followed the lighter childish style of Wordsworth. To

this latter class, perhaps, belonged the following lines, which,

having accidentally fallen into the hands of Mr. Bouncer, were

pronounced by him to be "no end good! first-rate fun!" for the little

gentleman put a highly erroneous construction upon them, and, to the

great laceration of the author's feelings, imagined them to be

altogether of a comic tendency. But, when Mr. Verdant Green wrote

them, he probably thought that "deep meaning lieth oft in childish

play":-

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 257]

"Pretty Patty Honeywood,

Fresh, and fair, and plump,

Into your affections

I should like to jump!

Into your good graces

I should like to steal;

That you lov'd me truly

I should like to feel.

"Pretty Patty Honeywood,

You can little know

How my sea of passion

Unto you doth flow;

How it ever hastens,

With a swelling tide,

To its strand of happiness

At thy darling side.

"Pretty Patty Honeywood,

Would that you and I

Could ask the surpliced parson

Our wedding knot to tie!

Oh! my life of sunshine

Then would be begun,

Pretty Patty Honeywood,

When you and I were one."

But by far his greatest poetical achievement was his "Legend of the

Fair Margaret," written in Spenserian metre, and commenced at this

period of his career, though never completed. The plot was of the

most dismal and intricate kind. The Fair Margaret was beloved by two

young men, one of whom (Sir Frederico) was dark, and (necessarily,

therefore) as badly disposed a young man as you would desire to keep

out of your family circle, and the other (Sir Verdour) was light, and

(consequently) as mild and amiable as any given number of maiden

aunts could wish. As a matter of course, therefore, the Fair

Margaret perversely preferred the dark Sir Frederico, who had

poisoned her ears, and told her the most abominable falsehoods about

the good and innocent Sir Verdour; when just as Sir Frederico was

about to forcibly carry away the Fair Margaret-

Why, just then, circumstances over which Mr. Verdant Green had no

control, prevented the ~denouement~, and the completion of "the

Legend."

[258 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

CHAPTER VI.

MR. VERDANT GREEN JOINS A NORTHUMBERLAND PIC-NIC.

<VG258.JPG> SOME weeks had passed away very pleasantly to all -

pleasantly even to Mr. Verdant Green; for, although he had not

renewed his apple-tree conversation with Miss Patty, and was making

progress with his "Legend of the Fair Margaret," yet - it may

possibly have been that the exertion to make "dove" rhyme with

"love," and "gloom" with "doom," occupied his mind to the exclusion

of needless sorrow - he contrived to make himself mournfully amiable,

even if not tolerably happy, in the society of the fair enchantress.

The Honeywood party were indeed a model household; and rode, and

drove, and walked, and fished, and sketched, as a large family of

brothers and sisters might do - perhaps with a little more piquancy

than is generally found in the home-made dish.

They had had more than one little friendly pic-nic and excursion, and

had seen Warkworth, and grown excessively sentimental in its

hermitage; they had lionised Alnwick, and gone over its noble castle,

and sat in Hotspur's chair, and fallen into raptures at the Duchess's

bijou of a dairy, and viewed the pillared ~passant~ lion, with his

tail blowing straight out (owing, probably, to the breezy nature of

his position), and seen the Duke's herd of buffaloes tearing along

their park with streaming manes; and they had gone back to Honeywood

Hall, and received Honeywood guests, and been entertained by them in

return.

But the squire was now about to give a pic-nic on a large scale; and

as it was important, not only in its dimensions and preparations, but

also in bringing about an occurrence that in no small degree affected

Mr. Verdant Green's future life, it becomes his historian's duty to

chronicle the event with the fulness that it merits. The pic-nic,

moreover, deserves mention because it possessed an individuality of

character, and was unlike the ordinary solemnities attending the

pic-nics of every-day life.

In the first place, the party had to reach the appointed spot - which

was Chillingham - in an unusual manner. At least half

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 259]

of the road that had to be traversed was impassable for carriages.

Bridgeless brooks had to be crossed; and what were called "roads"

were little better than the beds of mountain torrents, and in wet

weather might have been taken for such. Deep channels were worn in

them by the rush of impetuous streams, and no known carriage-springs

could have lived out such ruts. Carriages, therefore, in this part

of the country, were out of the question. The squire did what was

usual on such occasions: he appointed, as a rendezvous, a certain

little inn at the extremity of the carriageable part of the road, and

there all the party met, and left their chariots and horses. They

then - after a little preparatory pic-nic, for many of them had come

from long distances - took possession of certain wagons that were in

waiting for them.

These wagons, though apparently of light build, were constructed for

the country, and were capable of sustaining the severe test of the

rough roads. Within them were lashed hay-sacks, which, when covered

with railway rugs, formed sufficiently comfortable seats, on which

the divisions of the party sat ~vis-a-vis~, like omnibus travellers.

Frederick Delaval and a few others, on horses and ponies, as

outriders, accompanied the wagon procession, which was by no means

deficient in materials for the picturesque. The teams of horses were

turned out to their best advantage, and decorated with flowers. The

fore horse of each team bore his collar of little brass bells, which

clashed out a wild music as they moved along. The ruddy-faced

wagoners were in their shirt-sleeves, which were tied round with

ribbons; they had gay ribbons also on their hats and whips, and did

not lack bouquets and flowers for the further adornment of their

persons. Altogether they were most theatrical-looking fellows, and

appeared perfectly prepared to take their places in the ~Sonnambula~,

or any other opera in which decorated rustics have to appear and

unanimously shout their joy and grief at the nightly rate of two

shillings per head. The light summer dresses of the ladies helped to

make an agreeable variety of colour, as the wagons moved slowly along

the dark heathery hills, now by the side of a brawling brook, and now

by a rugged road.

The joltings of these same roads were, as little Mr. Bouncer

feelingly remarked, facts that must be felt to be believed. For,

when the wheel of any vehicle is suddenly plunged into a rut or hole

of a foot's depth, and from thence violently extracted with a jerk,

plunge, and wrench, to be again dropped into another hole or rut, and

withdrawn from thence in a like manner, - and when this process is

being simultaneously repeated, with discordant variations, by other

three wheels attached to the self-same vehicle, it will follow, as a

matter of course, that the result

[260 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

of this experiment will be the violent agitation and commingling of

the movable contents of the said vehicle; and, when these contents

chance to take the semblance of humanity, it may <VG260.JPG> readily

be imagined what must have been the scene presented to the view as

the pic-nic wagons, with their human freight, laboured thro' the

mountain roads that led towards Chillingham. But all this only gave

a zest to the day's enjoyment; and, if Miss Patty Honeywood was

unable to maintain her seat without assistance from her neighbour,

Mr. Verdant Green, it is not at all improbable but that she approved

of his kind attention, and that the other young ladies who were

similarly situated accepted similar attentions with similar gratitude.

In this way they literally jogged along to Chillingham, where they

alighted from their novel carriages and four, and then leisurely made

their way to the castle. When they had sufficiently lionized it, and

had strolled through the gardens, they went to have a look at the

famous wild cattle. Our Warwickshire friends had frequently had a

distant view of them; for the cattle kept together in a herd, and as

their park was on the slope of a dark hill, they were visible from

afar off as a moving white patch on the landscape. On the present

occasion they found that the cattle, which numbered their full herd

of about a hundred strong, were quietly grazing on the border of

their pine-wood, where a few of their fellow-tenants, the original

red-deer, were lifting their enormous antlers. From their position

the pic-nic party were unable to obtain a very near view of them; but

the curiosity of the young ladies was strongly excited, and would not

be allayed without a closer acquaintance with these formidable but

beautiful creatures. And it therefore happened that, when the

courageous Miss Bouncer proposed that they should make an incursion

into the very territory of the Wild Cattle, her proposition was not

only seconded, but was carried almost unanimously. It was in vain

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 261]

that Mr. Honeywood, and the seniors and chaperones of the party,

reminded the younger people of the grisly head they had just seen

hanging up in the lodge, and those straight sharp horns that had

gored to death the brave keeper who had risked his own life to save

his master's friend; it was in vain that Charles Larkyns, fearful for

his Mary's sake, quoted the "Bride of Lammermoor," and urged the

improbability of another Master of Ravenswood starting out of the

bushes to the rescue of a second Lucy Ashton; it was in vain that

anecdotes were told of the fury of these cattle - how they would

single out some aged or wounded companion, and drive him out of the

herd until he miserably died, and how they would hide themselves for

days within their dark pine-wood, where no one dare attack them; it

was in vain that Mr. Verdant Green reminded Miss Patty Honeywood of

her narrow escape from Mr. Roarer, and warned her that her then

danger was now increased a hundredfold; all in vain, for Miss Patty

assured him that the cattle were as peaceable as they were beautiful,

and that they only attacked people in self-defence when provoked or

molested. So, as the young ladies were positively bent upon having a

nearer view of the milk-white herd, the greater number of the

gentlemen were obliged to accompany them.

It was no easy matter to get into the Wild Cattle's enclosure, as the

boundary fence was of unusual height, and the difficulty of its being

scaled by ladies was proportionately increased. Nevertheless, the

fence and the difficulty were alike surmounted, and the party were

safely landed within the park. They had promised to obey Mr.

Honeywood's advice, and to abstain from that mill-stream murmur of

conversation in which a party of young ladies usually indulge, and to

walk quietly among the trees, across an angle of the park, at some

two or three hundred yards' distance from the herd, so as not to

unnecessarily attract their attention; and then to scale the fence at

a point higher up the hill. Following this advice, they walked

quietly across the mossy grass, keeping behind trees, and escaping

the notice of the cattle. They had reached midway in their proposed

path, and, with silent admiration, were watching the movements of the

herd as they placidly grazed at a short distance from them, when Miss

Bouncer, who was addicted to uncontrollable fits of laughter at

improper seasons, was so tickled at some ~sotto voce~ remark of

Frederick Delaval's, that she burst into a hearty ringing laugh,

which, ere she could smother its noise with her handkerchief, had

startled the watchful ears of the monarch of the herd.

The Bull raised his magnificent head, and looked round in the

direction from whence the disturbance had proceeded. As he perceived

it, he sniffed the air, made a rapid movement with his

[262 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

pink-edged ears, and gave an ominous bellow. This signal awoke the

attention of the other bulls, their wives, and children, who

simultaneously left off grazing and commenced gazing. The bovine

monarch gave another bellow, stamped upon the ground, lashed his

tail, advanced about twenty yards in a threatening manner, and then

paused, and gazed fixedly upon the pic-nic party and Miss Bouncer,

who too late regretted her malapropos laugh. "For heaven's sake!"

whispered Mr. Honeywood, "do not speak; but get to the fence as

quietly and quickly as you can."

The young ladies obeyed, and forbore either to scream or faint - for

the present. The Bull gave another stamp and bellow, and made a

second advance. This time he came about fifty yards before he

paused, and he was followed at a short distance, and at a walking

pace, by the rest of the herd. The ladies retreated quietly, the

gentlemen came after them, but the park-fence appeared to be at a

terribly long distance, and it was evident that if the herd made a

sudden rush upon them, nothing could save them - unless they could

climb the trees; but this did not seem very practicable. Mr. Verdant

Green, however, caught at the probability of such need, and anxiously

looked round for the most likely tree for his purpose.

The Bull had made another advance, and was gaining upon them. It

seemed curious that he should stand forth as the champion of the

herd, and do all the roaring and stamping, while the other bulls

remained mute, and followed with the rest of the herd, yet so it was;

but there seemed no reason to disbelieve the unpleasant fact that the

monarch's example would be imitated by his subjects. The herd had

now drawn so near, and the young ladies had made such a comparatively

slow retreat, that they were yet many yards distant from the boundary

fence, and it was quite plain that they could not reach it before the

advancing milk-white mass would be hurled against them. Some of the

young ladies were beginning to feel faint and hysterical, and their

alarm was more or less shared by all the party.

It was now, by Charles Larkyns's advice, that the more active

gentlemen mounted on to the lower branches of the wide-spreading

trees, and, aided by others upon the ground, began to lift up the

ladies to places of security. But, the party being a large one, this

caring for its more valued but less athletic members was a business

that could not be transacted without the expenditure of some little

time and trouble, more, as it seemed, than could now be bestowed;

for, the onward movement of the Chillingham Cattle was more rapid

than the corresponding upward movement of the Northumbrian

pic-nickers. And, even if Charles Larkyns's plan should have a

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 263]

favourable issue, it did not seem a very agreeable prospect to be

detained up in a tree, with a century of bulls bellowing beneath,

until casual assistance should arrive; and yet, what was this state

of affairs when compared with the terrors of that impending fate from

which, for some of them at least, there seemed no escape? Mr. Verdant

Green fully realized the horrors of this alternative when he looked

at Miss Patty Honeywood, who had not yet joined those ladies who,

clinging fearfully to the boughs, and crouching among the branches

like roosting guinea-fowls, were for the present in comparative

safety, and out of the reach of the Cattle.

The monarch of the herd had now come within forty yards' distance, and

then stopped, lashing his tail and bellowing defiance, as he appeared

to be preparing for a final rush. Behind him, in a dense phalanx,

white and terrible, were the rest of the herd. Suddenly, and before

the Snowy Bull had made his advance, Frederick Delaval, to the

wondering fear of all, stepped boldly forth to meet him. As has been

said, he was one of the equestrians of the party, and he carried a

heavy-handled whip, furnished with a long and powerful lash. He

wrapped this lash round his hand, and walked resolutely towards the

Bull, fixing his eyes steadily upon him. The Bull chafed angrily,

and stamped upon the ground, but did not advance. The herd, also,

were motionless; but their dark, lustrous eyes were centred upon

Frederick Delaval's advancing figure. The members of the pic-nic

party were also watching him with intense interest. If they could,

they would have prevented his purpose; for to all appearance he was

about to lose his own life in order that the rest of the party might

gain time to reach a place of safety. The very expectation of this

prevented many of the ladies availing themselves of the opportunity

thus so boldly purchased, and they stood transfixed with terror and

astonishment, breathlessly awaiting the result.

They watched him draw near the wild white Bull, who stood there yet,

foaming and stamping up the turf, but not advancing. His huge horned

head was held erect, and his mane bristled up, as he looked upon the

adversary who thus dared to brave him. He suffered Frederick Delaval

to approach him, and only betrayed a consciousness of his presence by

his heavy snorting, angry lashing of the tail, and quick motion of

his bright eye. All this time the young man had looked the Bull

steadfastly in the front, and had drawn near him with an equal and

steady step. Suppressed screams broke from more than one witness of

his bravery, when he at length stood within a step of his huge

adversary. He gazed fixedly into the Bull's eyes, and, after a

moment's pause, suddenly raised his riding-whip, and lashed the

animal heavily over the shoulders. The Bull tossed round,

[264 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

and roared with fury. The whole herd became agitated, and other

bulls trotted up to support their monarch.

Still looking him steadfastly in the eyes, Frederick Delaval again

raised his heavy whip, and lashed him more severely than before. The

Wild Bull butted down, swerved round, and dashed out with his heels.

As he did so, Frederick again struck him heavily with the whip, and,

at the same time, blew a piercing signal on the boatswain's whistle

that he usually carried with him. The sudden shriek of the whistle

appeared to put the ~coup de grace~ to the young man's bold attack,

for the animal had no sooner heard it than he tossed up his head and

threw forward his ears, as though to ask from whence the novel noise

proceeded. Frederick Delaval again blew a piercing shriek on the

whistle; and when the Wild Bull heard it, and once more felt the

stinging lash of the heavy whip, he swerved round, and with a bellow

of pain and fury trotted back to the herd. The young man blew

another shrill whistle, and cracked the long lash of his whip until

its echoes reverberated like so many pistol-shots. The Wild Bull's

trot increased to a gallop, and he and the whole herd of the

Chillingham Cattle dashed rapidly away from the pic-nic party, and in

a little time were lost to view in the recesses of their forest.

"Thank God!" said Mr. Honeywood; and it was echoed in the hearts of

all. But the Squire's emotion was too deep for words, as he went to

meet Frederick Delaval, and pressed him by the hand.

"Get the women outside the park as quickly as possible," said

Frederick, "and I will join you."

But when this was done, and Mr. Honeywood had returned to him, he

found him lying motionless beneath the tree.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 265]

CHAPTER VII.

MR. VERDANT GREEN HAS AN INKLING OF THE FUTURE.

<VG265.JPG> AMONG other things that Mr. Honeywood had thoughtfully

provided for the pic-nic was a flask of pale brandy, which, for its

better preservation, he had kept in his own pocket. This was

fortunate, as it enabled the Squire to make use of it for Frederick

Delaval's recovery. He had fainted: his concentrated courage and

resolution had borne him bravely up to a certain point, and then his

overtaxed energies had given way when the necessity for their

exertion was removed. When he had come to himself, he appeared to be

particularly thankful that there had not been a spectator of (what he

deemed to be) his unpardonable foolishness in giving way to a

weakness that he considered should be indulged in by none other than

faint-hearted women; and he earnestly begged the Squire to be silent

on this little episode in the day's adventure.

When they had left the Wild Cattle's park, and had joined the rest of

the party, Frederick Delaval received the hearty thanks that he so

richly deserved; and this, with such an exuberant display of feminine

gratitude as to lead Mr. Bouncer to observe that, if Mr. Delaval

chose to take a mean advantage of his position, he could have

immediately proposed to two-thirds of the ladies, without the

possibility of their declining his offer: at which remark Mr. Verdant

Green experienced an uncomfortable sensation, as he thought of the

probable issue of events if Mr. Delaval should partly act upon Mr.

Bouncer's suggestion, by selecting one young lady - his cousin Patty

- and proposing to her. This reflection became strengthened into a

determination to set the matter at rest, decide his doubts, and put

an end to his suspense, by taking the first opportunity to renew with

Miss Patty that most interesting apple-tree conversation that had

been interrupted by Mr. Bouncer at such a critical moment.

The pic-nic party, broken up into couples and groups, slowly made

their way up the hill to Ros Castle - the doubly-intrenched British

fort on the summit - where the dinner was to take place. It was a

rugged road, running along the side of the

[266 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

park, bounded by rocky banks, and shaded by trees. It was tenanted

as usual by a Faw gang, - a band of gipsies, whose wild and gay

attire, with their accompaniments of tents, carts, horses, dogs, and

fires, added picturesqueness to the scene. With the characteristic

of their race - which appears to be a shrewd mixture of mendicity and

mendacity - they at once abandoned their business of tinkering and

peg-making; and, resuming their other business of fortune-telling and

begging, they judiciously distributed themselves among the various

divisions of the pic-nic party.

Mr. Verdant Green was strolling up the hill lost in meditation, and

so inattentive to the wiles of Miss Eleonora Morkin, and her sister

Letitia Jane (two fascinating young ladies who were bent upon turning

the pic-nic to account), that they had left him, and had forcibly

attached themselves to Mr. Poletiss (a soft young gentleman from the

neighbourhood of Wooler), when a gipsy woman, with a baby at her back

and two children at her heels, singled out our hero as a not unlikely

victim, and began at once to tell his fate, dispensing with the aid

of stops:-

"May the heavens rain blessings on your head my pretty gentleman give

the poor gipsy a piece of silver to buy her a bit for the bairns and

I can read by the lines in your face my pretty gentleman that you're

born to ride in a golden coach and wear buckles of diemints and that

your heart's opening like a flower to help the poor gipsy to get her

a trifle for her poor famishing bairns that I see the tears of pity

astanding like pearls in your eyes my pretty gentleman and may you

never know the want of the shilling that I see you're going to give

the poor gipsy who will send you all the rich blessings of heaven if

you will but cross her hand with the bright pieces of silver that are

not half so bright as the sweet eyes of the lady that's awaiting and

athinking of you my pretty gentleman."

This unpunctuated exhortation of the dark-eyed prophetess was here

diverted into a new channel by the arrival of Miss Patty Honeywood,

who had left her cousin Frank, and had brought her sketch-book to the

spot where "the pretty gentleman" and the fortune-teller were

standing,

"I do so want to draw a real gipsy," she said. "I have never yet

sketched one; and this is a good opportunity. These little brownies

of children, with their Italian faces and hair, are very picturesque

in their rags."

"Oh! do draw them!" said Verdant enthusiastically, as he perceived

that the rest of the party had passed out of sight. "It is a

capital opportunity, and I dare say they will have no objection to be

sketched."

"May the heavens be the hardest bed you'll ever have to lie on my

pretty rosebud," said the unpunctuating descendant of

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 267]

John Faa, as she addressed herself to Miss Patty; "and you're welcome

to take the poor gipsy's picture and to cross her hand <VG267.JPG>

with the shining silver while she reads the stars and picks you out a

prince of a husband and twelve pretty bairns like the" -

"No, no!" said Miss Patty, checking the gipsy in her bounteous

promises. "I'll give you something for letting me sketch you, but I

won't have my fortune told. I know it already; at least as much as

I care to know." A speech which Mr. Verdant Green interpreted thus:

Frederick Delaval has proposed, and has been accepted.

"Pray don't let me keep you from the rest of the party," said Miss

Patty to our hero, while the gipsy shot out fragments of persuasive

oratory. "I can get on very well by myself."

"She wants to get rid of me," thought Verdant. "I dare say her

cousin is coming back to her." But he said, "At any rate let me stay

until Mr. Delaval rejoins you."

"Oh! he is gone on with the rest, like a polite man. The Miss

Maxwells and their cousins were all by themselves."

"But ~you~ are all by ~yourself~" and, by your own showing, I ought

to prove my politeness by staying with you."

"I suppose that is Oxford logic," said Miss Patty, as she went on

with her sketch of the two gipsy children. "I wish these small

persons would stand quiet. Put your hands on your stick, my boy, and

not before your face. - But there are the Miss Morkins, with one

gentleman for the two; and I dare say you would much rather be with

Miss Eleonora. Now, wouldn't you?" and the young lady, as she

rapidly sketched the figures before her, stole a sly look at the

enamoured gentleman by her side, who forthwith protested, in an

excited and confused manner, that he would rather stand near her for

one minute than walk and talk for a whole day with the Miss Morkins;

and then, having made this (for him) unusually strong avowal, he

timidly blushed, and retired within himself.

"Oh yes! I dare say," said Miss Patty; "but I don't believe in

compliments. If you choose to victimize yourself by

[268 ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN]

staying here, of course you can do so. - Look at me, little girl; you

needn't be frightened; I shan't eat you. - And perhaps you can be

useful. I want some water to wash-in these figures; and if they were

literally washed in it, it would be very much to their advantage,

wouldn't it?"

Of course it would; and of course Mr. Verdant Green was delighted to

obey the command. "What spirits she is in!" he thought, as he dipped

the little can of water into the spring. "I dare say it is because

she and her cousin Frederick have come to an understanding."

"If you are anxious to hear a fortune told," said Miss Patty, "here

is the old gipsy coming back to us, and you had better let her tell

yours."

"I am afraid that I know it."

"And do you like the prospect of it?"

"Not at all!" and as he said this Mr. Verdant Green's countenance

fell. Singularly enough, a shade of sadness also stole over Miss

Patty's sunny face. What could he mean?

A somewhat disagreeable silence was broken by the gipsy most volubly

echoing Miss Patty's request.

"You had better let her tell you your fortune," said the young lady;

"perhaps it may be an improvement on what you expected. And I shall

be able to make a better sketch of her in her true character of a

fortune-teller."

Then, like as Martivalle inspected Quentin Durward's palm, according

to the form of the mystic arts which he practised, so the swarthy

prophetess opened her Book of Fate, and favoured Mr. Verdant Green

with choice extracts from its contents. First, she told the pretty

gentleman a long rigmarole about the stars, and a planet that ought

to have shone upon him, but didn't. Then she discoursed of a

beautiful young lady, with a heart as full of love as a pomegranate

was full of seeds, - painting, in pretty exact colours, a lively

portraiture of Miss Patty, which was no very difficult task, while

the fair original was close at hand; nevertheless, the infatuated

pretty gentleman was deeply impressed with the gipsy narrative, and

began to think that the practice and knowledge of the occult sciences

may, after all, have been handed down to the modern representatives

of the ancient Egyptians. He was still further impressed with this

belief when the gipsy proceeded to tell him that he was passionately

attached to the pomegranate-hearted young lady, but that his path of

true love was crossed by a rival - a dark man.

Frederick Delaval! This is really most extraordinary! thought Mr.

Verdant Green, who was not familiar with a fortune-teller's stock in

trade; and he waited with some anxiety for the further unravelling of

his fate.

[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 269]