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CHRISTMAS STORIES.
CONTAINING
JOHN WILDGOOSE THE POACHER,
THE SMUGGLER,
AND
GOOD-NATURE, OR PARISH MATTERS.
OXFORD,
_PRINTED BY W. BAXTER_,
FOR J. PARKER; AND F. C. AND J. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL'S
CHURCH YARD, AND WATERLOO PLACE, LONDON.
1823.
THE
HISTORY
OF
JOHN WILDGOOSE.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The Author of the following Tale has, for some time, wished to put
together a little Tract on the evil and danger of _poaching_; an offence
which so often leads on to the most immoral habits, and the most heinous
crimes. It seemed that his object might be answered by the aid of
narrative and dialogue, more effectually than by a regular and continued
discourse. If it should be thought, in any degree, worthy of standing on
the same shelf with "Trimmer's Instructive Tales," and the "Cheap
Repository Tracts," the ambition of the Author will be gratified.
_Jan._ 27, 1821.
[Illustration]
THE
HISTORY
OF
JOHN WILDGOOSE.
Thomas Wildgoose was an honest and hard-working man, in one of the
midland counties. He had long been attached to Susan Jenkins, a
well-behaved young woman of the same village; but from prudence and a
proper independence of mind, he determined not to take a wife until he
had a house to bring her to, as well as some prospect of providing for a
family without being a burthen to the farmers, who were already
complaining of the pressure of the poor-rates.
In consequence of his good character he was never out of work; and
though his wages were not high, yet he almost every week contrived to
put by something, which he deposited in a bank for savings, lately
established in the neighbouring market town. His weekly deposits were
not very large sums, yet "many a little makes a mickle." This was helped
out by a legacy of thirty pounds from an uncle; so that in a few years
he was enabled to purchase a cottage with a small garden, and had still
something over for a few articles of furniture. Susan, meanwhile, had
gone on steadily in service, always making a point of putting by some
part of her wages; so that when they married, they were comparatively
rich. For some time after his marriage Wildgoose continued to work for
his old master; and Susan, by field work in the hay-making and harvest,
and by taking in sewing at other times of the year, was able to earn a
good deal towards maintaining their children. The wants of an increasing
family, however, led him to consider how he might enlarge his means of
subsistence; and the success of an old acquaintance in the adjoining
village, determined him to endeavour to purchase a horse and cart, and
commence business as a higler.
A higler's business is liable to so many chances, and takes a man so
much from home, that perhaps he would have acted more wisely if he had
stuck to work. We cannot however blame him for endeavouring to better
his circumstances in an honest way. Though he occasionally met with some
losses from bad debts, yet upon the whole he did pretty well.
One day in November, as he was returning home from market rather late in
the evening, and was walking quietly by the side of the cart, he was
suddenly startled by a rattling noise behind him; and turning round, saw
the True Blue stage driving furiously along the road, and the Opposition
coach a short distance behind. Wildgoose immediately went to his horse's
head, and drew his cart as close as he could to the hedge; but just at
that moment the Opposition coach had got up with the other, and in
endeavouring to pass it, one of the leaders knocked poor Wildgoose down,
and the wheels went over him. The unfeeling coachmen were too eager in
the race to attend to the mischief which they had occasioned; and the
poor man was left lying in the road, until two neighbouring farmers,
returning from market, found him, and brought him home, more dead than
alive, in his own cart. At first some faint expectations were
entertained of his recovery; but soon it was found that the injury which
he had sustained was too serious to admit of hope.
Mr. Hooker, the clergyman of the parish, came to visit him frequently,
for the purpose both of assisting his devotions, and of comforting his
poor wife: and on one of these occasions he took an opportunity of
asking him, in as kind a manner as possible, whether he had settled his
worldly affairs. This certainly had not occurred to Wildgoose: when,
however, Mr. Hooker explained to him, that if he died without a will,
his house and garden would all go to his eldest son, subject to dower to
his wife; and that in strictness of law his household furniture,
shop-goods, and cart and horse, would be to be divided in three parts,
one to his wife, and two between his children; he saw the propriety of
arranging these matters while he was able. Mr. Smith the attorney was
accordingly sent for. Poor Wildgoose, who had reason to have full
confidence in the good sense and judgment of his wife, and in her
impartial affection to her children, felt that he could not do better
than leave every thing to her, at the same time constituting her sole
executrix. He knew that she would consider herself as a trustee for the
children, felt sure that she would not marry again, and thought it best
not to fetter her by any minute directions. Mr. Smith prepared the will
accordingly; and as three witnesses are necessary to a will bequeathing
a freehold, their good neighbour Simpson the tailor was called in, who
together with Mr. Hooker and Mr. Smith attested Wildgoose's execution of
the will. When this was done, the poor man felt his mind relieved: and
endeavoured more and more to detach his thoughts from all earthly cares,
and to fix them on subjects connected with those unseen things which are
eternal. The next day he received the sacrament, which he had been in
the habit of receiving frequently during his life; and before the end of
the week he died.
Poor Susan had been for some time preparing for this sad event; but
still when it actually happened, it seemed to come upon her by surprise.
She felt quite stunned by the blow. At first, she could attend to, could
think of, nothing but her own loss, her own sad and desolate condition.
She was however soon enabled to turn for support to that Being, who
bids the widow to trust in him, and who promises to protect the
fatherless children. Her mind found a comfort in prayer; and the sort of
strain and oppression which she felt through her whole frame was soon
relieved by a flood of tears. The necessity of acting forced her to
rouse and exert herself. Her husband had desired to be buried in as
plain and simple a manner as possible; and she felt that she shewed him
more real respect by complying with this direction, than by spending in
useless shew that money which was wanted to provide necessaries for the
children.
Thomas had been one of the singers. The band accordingly met, and shewed
their respect to his memory by singing the funeral psalm, after the
conclusion of the beautiful and impressive lesson in the burial service.
Poor Susan, who was naturally a strong-minded woman, had been able so
far to exert herself as to attend the last sad ceremony, but had nearly
sunk while the psalm was singing. She felt, however, the ground of
consolation suggested to her by the service. When the clergyman read,
"Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord," and again, when he spoke
of "the souls of the faithful after they are delivered from the burden
of the flesh being in joy and felicity with the Lord," she felt an
humble trust that these words were applicable to her dear departed
husband. Deep therefore and acute as her sorrow was, she endeavoured to
comply with the admonition of the holy apostle St. Paul, "not to be
sorry as one without hope."
She had little time, however, for the indulgence of grief. The
circumstances of her family made it absolutely necessary for her to
consider by what means she should provide for them. One of her first
cares was to administer to the will. Mr. Hooker told her that she was
liable to a heavy penalty if she neglected this; and that though the
penalty was seldom levied, she was hardly complete executrix until it
was done. The next thing to be considered was, how she could get a
living without being a burden to the parish. Once she had some thoughts
of carrying on the higling business herself; but the being taken so much
from her home and children, and several other circumstances, convinced
her that this plan was not advisable. She therefore determined to sell
the horse and cart, and set up a shop, for which there was a fair
opening in the village, without doing injury to any of her neighbours.
It went to her heart to part with the horse, which had been her dear
husband's fellow-traveller in so many journeys, and of which he had
taken such good care; but prudence forbad her to give way to feelings of
this nature. She therefore endeavoured to find for him a kind master,
and got quite as good a price as she could expect. The cart too sold for
as much as it was worth; and with the money which was thus produced, she
was enabled to open her shop with a good supply of articles purchased at
the ready money price. One plan, which she very early adopted, may be
worth the attention of those who are engaged in the same business. She
soon contrived to learn, what was the usual rate of profit, which the
shops in the neighbourhood made upon the articles which they sold. They
all sold upon credit, and of course lost a good deal by bad debts. Mrs.
Wildgoose would gladly have sold nothing but for ready money; but as she
soon found that this was out of the question, partly because some of
the poor were irregularly paid by their employers, and partly from other
causes, she adopted the following plan. In general she gave the same
credit as the other shops, and thought it fair to make the same profit,
but always gladly gave up half the profit to a ready money customer.
Three of her children were able to make themselves of use. John, the
eldest, who was now eleven years old, was employed by a farmer at
seven-pence per day. Mary, the next, assisted in washing and mending,
and in taking care of little Sarah while her mother was in the shop; and
Sam could earn two shillings a week, sometimes by pig-keeping, and
sometimes by jingling a sheep-bell, to keep the birds from the corn.
And here I must just mention by the bye a scrape that little Sam once
got into. He was sitting on the watch, under a hedge close to the public
road, when a flight of pigeons settled on the wheat. Up jumped Sam, and,
all at once, began hallooing as loud as his lungs would let him, and
making the most alarming noise with his bell. He succeeded in driving
off the plunderers but, unluckily, the suddenness of the noise close by
the road so frightened the horse of a gentleman who was riding by, that
he turned short round, and threw his rider into the dirt. The gentleman
was not much hurt, but a good deal out of temper; and vented his anger
by giving a few cuts with his whip to the boy, who caused his disaster.
Poor Sam meant no harm; but perhaps he deserved some punishment, as his
thoughtlessness in making a sudden noise so near the public road, might
have been the occasion of a broken limb, or even a more serious
accident.
Notwithstanding a few occasional rubs and grievances, the family for
some time got on pretty well; but there was something in the character
of her eldest son, which gave Mrs. Wildgoose much uneasiness. He had, I
am afraid, been rather spoilt from his infancy. Both father and mother
were so fond of their first child, that they humoured him in every
thing. Whatever he cried for he was almost sure to have, and this
mistaken indulgence made him, from very early years, selfish, and
wilful. Care and diligence afterwards, prospered by the grace of God,
may certainly correct the effects of early spoiling; but, though they
had so many other good qualities, the parents of John Wildgoose had not
been sufficiently aware of the necessity of paying attention to the
forming of his temper and principles. For a few years he was sent to the
day school, and learnt to read tolerably well; but when he was between
eight and nine years old, he was taken to work; and employed, sometimes
by the farmers, sometimes to go on errands for his father. He felt his
father's death a good deal, and for some time seemed anxious to do what
he could to assist his mother. He stuck to his work, and regularly
brought his earnings home; and was kind to his brother and sisters.
Soon, however, the wilfulness of his character began again to shew
itself, and gained strength by being no longer checked by the authority
of a father. His mother was grieved to find that he would often go his
own way instead of complying with her wishes. One of his principal
faults at this time was a neglect of the Lord's day. He seldom came to
church; and when he did happen to come, was inattentive to every part of
the service. Mr. Hooker several times endeavoured to persuade him to
come to the Sunday school; he told him that one principal use of such
schools was the enabling those boys, who were engaged in labour during
the week, to keep up and to improve the learning which they had acquired
at the day school before they went to work; but he would not be
persuaded. In spring he was bird's nesting; in summer he was lying on
the grass, or bathing in the river; in autumn he was nutting, and, I am
sorry to say, was sometimes guilty of making an inroad on a neighbour's
orchard; and in winter he was engaged in sliding on the ice, hunting
squirrels, or some other diversion. Both his mother and Mr. Hooker
lamented this, and in the kindest manner endeavoured to make him
sensible of the folly of his conduct. He received their admonitions in
sullen silence; and instead of feeling, as he ought to have felt, that
their advice proceeded from a regard for his welfare, seemed to think
that it was meant to answer some object of their own.
When he was just past seventeen, he unluckily struck up a close intimacy
with a young man in the village, a few years older than himself. His
name was William Atkins, but he was usually called Black Will. Atkins
was a lively fellow, with a good deal of coarse humour. He was one of
those men who neither fear God nor regard man, and who take pleasure in
turning religion and every thing serious into ridicule. With him young
Wildgoose passed many of his leisure hours; and sometimes on a Sunday
evening they used to join a party of idlers at the Fighting Cocks, a
lone public house, about a quarter of a mile from the village.
Mrs. Wildgoose saw the intimacy which her son had formed with great
pain, and repeatedly cautioned him against it. "Jack," she one day said
to him, "I do wish from my heart that you would not keep company with
that Will Atkins. I am sure no good can come of it." "Why, mother,"
answered Jack, "what harm is there in poor Will? He is a good-humoured
fellow, that loves a joke; and, I'm sure, he's always very kind and
friendly to me." "As pleasant as you may find him," replied his mother,
"you know that he bears but a middling character." "Yes," said the son,
"but I shall take care not to be hurt by that." "Don't be too sure,"
rejoined she; "the _Good Book_ tells us, that _evil communications
corrupt good manners, that he that toucheth pitch shall be defiled
therewith_, and that _the companion of fools shall be destroyed_." Jack
never liked any thing approaching to a lecture; and sulkily saying, "I
think, mother, I'm old enough now to judge for myself," left the house.
Black Will, among other qualifications, possessed that of being an
experienced poacher; and it was not long before he let John Wildgoose
into the art and mystery of this species of marauding. He used to tell
him stories of his dexterity in eluding the keepers, of his skill in
entrapping the game, of the fine sums of money he made by it, and of the
jolly parties which that money enabled them to have at the Fighting
Cocks. Jack was amused with his stories, and began very soon to think
that he should like to have a share in these adventures. As a boy he was
always fond of bird's nesting, and bat fowling, and was eager to try his
hand upon game of a higher description. Will was ready enough to lead
him on. The next autumn he gave him a few wires, taught him how to set
them in the most likely places, and how to make more. Young Wildgoose
was at this time employed in keeping sheep, and was with them early and
late. His friend instructed him to set his wires in the evening, and
when he returned to his flock in the morning, to go round and see how
they had succeeded. When he found a hare, he directly hid it in a ditch,
or some snug place, till dark, and then carried it to Atkins, who used
to meet him for this purpose near the Fighting Cocks. Secretly as he
managed this, he did not escape the vigilant eye of Sir John's keeper;
but besides that he felt for the young man's mother, and therefore was
unwilling to expose him, he thought that he should do his master and the
public more service by discovering the receiver of the hares, than by
proceeding against the catcher of them. He had seen the direction which
young Wildgoose usually took when he left his sheep, and contrived one
night to station himself so, that he witnessed his meeting with Atkins,
and saw the latter directly carry the booty into the public house.
Stephen Tomkins the landlord was a keen, knowing kind of person. Though
he sold a good deal of beer, yet he chose to say that he could not get
his bread by keeping to his regular business, and had many other ways of
earning a few shillings. Among the rest, he kept a horse and cart, with
which he travelled every week as a higler, either to the county town, or
wherever else suited his purpose. The game-keeper had long suspected him
of carrying game, but had never been able actually to catch him. What he
now saw, added to some private information which he had received,
satisfied him that his suspicions were just. Early next morning
therefore he applied for a warrant to search for game, and waited with
the constable and two other men at the turn of the road, before you come
to the turnpike at the entrance of the town. About the hour they
reckoned upon, Tomkins's cart made its appearance, and they sallied out
from the hovel where they had concealed themselves. Tomkins, upon being
desired to stop, at first looked a little frightened, but soon contrived
to put a good face upon the business. When they shewed him their
warrant, he pretended to be surprised, and affronted that they should
suspect such a man as him of any thing improper; at the same time
asserting with many oaths, that he had nothing in his cart but a few
fowls and the butter which he had collected from the dairymen. The
keepers, however, insisted upon searching; and were so long before they
succeeded, that they almost thought that he had got some hint of their
intentions. At last, however, quite at the bottom of the cart, under
butter baskets, fowls, and other commodities of the same nature, they
discovered first one hare, then a second, then a third. As it was market
day, the magistrates were holding their usual petty sessions. The
keepers immediately carried Stephen Tomkins and the hares into the
justice room. The regular steps having been gone through, and the
witnesses sworn and examined, Tomkins had not a word to say in his
defence. Mr. Hale, therefore, who acted as chairman of the bench,
proceeded to conviction, and addressed him in the following words.
"Stephen Tomkins, you have been convicted upon the clearest evidence of
having game in your possession in your higler's cart, by which offence
you have incurred the penalty of 15[English Pound]; that is, 5[English
Pound] for each head of game, half to the informer and half to the poor
of the parish[a]. The law does not give us the power of mitigating this
penalty; and even if it did, we probably should not feel that there was
any cause for mitigation. The offence of which you are convicted is one,
the effects of which are very mischievous. It has been said, that if
there were no receivers of stolen goods there would be no thieves: and
it may be said, with equal truth, that there would be few poachers if
there were no clandestine receivers of game. Such men as you encourage
thoughtless young men in this manner to break the laws of their country,
and to take to a course of life which often brings them to an untimely
end. We hope that this conviction will be a warning to you, and will
induce you to desist from such practices."
[Footnote a: See Note [A.]]
Tomkins said, that it was very hard that he should have to pay so heavy
a fine, only for having a few hares in his cart; and did not see how he
was more to blame than the poulterer, to whom he was going to send them,
or than the gentlemen who bought them of the poulterers. Mr. Hale
replied, that he and his brother justices sat there to execute the laws,
and had not time to discuss the propriety of them, or the cases of
other offenders who were not before them. "As for you, Mr. Tomkins," he
continued, "for the reasons which I have given, I do not think your
punishment at all too severe: at all events, it is the punishment
prescribed by law, which we are bound to inflict. As for those other
persons to whom you allude, a poulterer exposing game for sale, and a
gentleman or other person _buying it_[b], are liable to the same
penalty, and if they should be brought before us with sufficient
evidence against them, it would be our duty to convict them. Perhaps I
might also feel it right to give them the same admonition that I have
given you. I might feel it right to hint to them, as I have done to you,
that they are encouraging poor men to break the laws by poaching, and
that they are in one point of view more to blame than the poachers
themselves. A poacher often pleads distress and poverty. This is no
excuse for him, but can certainly often be pleaded with truth. Now,
certainly, a poor, uneducated man, who breaks the laws through
distress--though mind, I again say, that that is no excuse for him--must
in one point of view at least, be considered as less blameable than he
who knowingly breaks them for the purpose of mere gain, or, than he who
violates them for the sake of gratifying his appetite or his vanity, by
seeing game upon his table."
[Footnote b: See Note [B.]]
Tomkins had nothing more to say, excepting that he had not the money by
him, and wanted a little time to raise it. The justices therefore
allowed him to defer the payment till that day fortnight.
When the culprit returned into the market-place, he pretended to make
light of the affair; and calling at the Red Lion for a pot of ale with
some gin in it, drank "good luck to poaching," and affected to laugh at
the magistrates. Fifteen pounds, however, was really a heavy pull upon
Tomkins's purse, and whatever he might pretend, it weighed upon his mind
a good deal.
When he got back to his own house, he was loud in expressing his ill
humour against Mr. Hale, and the whole bench of justices: and uttered
against them the most dreadful curses. "Come, come, Stephen," said old
Truman, his father-in-law, who was quietly sitting in the
chimney-corner, "come, come, you are going a little too far; I am sorry
for many reasons that you have got into this scrape, and don't wonder
at your being vexed; but what right have you to cry out so against Mr.
Hale?"--"Right!" said Tomkins, "right enough, I think. Why, has'nt he
fined me fifteen pounds?"--"Yes; but could he do otherwise? Every
magistrate, you know, is sworn to execute the laws to the best of his
judgment. If, after such clear evidence, he had let you off, he would
have broken his oath, and have acted ill towards the public at large,
and unjustly towards those who are entitled to receive the money.
Besides, Stephen, you don't suppose, because a magistrate punishes you
as an _offender_, that he bears any ill will to you as a _man_.
Excepting on licensing-day, he probably never saw you before, and never
thought about you one way or the other."--"Well then," said Tomkins, "I
hate him for being a magistrate at all."--"Now there you're wrong
again," said the old man; "I'm sure we all ought to be very thankful to
those gentlemen, who will undertake such a troublesome office,
especially as they get nothing by it. There are few people in these days
that will work without pay. The judges get some thousands a year, and a
pension when they are too old for service. I do not wish them one
farthing less, for they deserve richly all they get, and are, generally
speaking, an honour to the country. The attorneys too, if you have any
dealings with them, come pretty quick upon you with their
three-and-fourpences, and their six-and-eightpences; and the counsellors
seldom open their mouths under a guinea or two. Tho' here again I must
say, that I don't think either of these sorts of lawyers over-paid, when
you consider how many years most of them work before they get any thing,
(many, I believe, never get any thing at all.) The gentlemen, however,
who act as justices, give their time and attention for nothing, and run
the risk of giving offence to many of their neighbours into the bargain.
No one, I'm sure, will undertake the office, who values his own ease,
and quiet, and comfort, at a higher rate than the being of use to his
neighbours and the public."--"I wish," said Tomkins peevishly, "there
were no such things as laws or magistrates in the world."--"Like enough,
like enough," replied Truman, "men are apt to quarrel with the laws
when the laws are too hard for 'em. You don't often look into the Bible,
Stephen, but that would tell you, that the magistrate _beareth not the
sword in vain, but is an avenger to execute wrath upon every soul that
doeth evil_. It is, therefore, natural for a man, who has done evil, or
who means to do evil, to wish that there was no such check upon him. But
those who, instead of doing evil, wish to lead quiet and peaceable lives
in an honest way, are glad to have the laws to protect them from evil
doers, and are thankful to those who duly execute them."
Tomkins did not much like Truman's lecture, and instead of being
benefited by it, retained in his heart all his ill-will against Mr.
Hale. In this he was not only very wrong, but, I am disposed to think,
more unreasonable than the generality of men who may be in the same
unlucky circumstances with himself. For men, who are convicted upon
sufficient evidence, have generally the sense to see that the magistrate
who convicts them, merely does his bounden duty. Tomkins put common
sense and reason out of the question, and determined to do something by
way of revenge. Mr. Hale's house was situated about seven miles off. It
stood at the extremity of a rather extensive paddock, at the other end
of which was a large fish pond, well stored with jack and perch. Tomkins
knew the pond well, and took it into his head, that he would make it
refund part of his fifteen pounds. He communicated his plan to Will
Atkins, young Wildgoose, and Mike Simmons, who readily entered into it.
They heard that Mr. Hale was from home for a few days, and determined to
execute their plan without delay. They accordingly furnished themselves
with a large net, and in the dusk of the evening proceeded to a barn, at
a little distance from Mr. Hale's grounds. Here they concealed
themselves till towards twelve o'clock at night. They then got over the
pales, and were just beginning to open their net, when they were alarmed
by the sound of horses coming swiftly along the road. They thought
themselves safe from the owner of the pond, but were of course afraid of
being seen at that time of night by any one else, and crouched down to
avoid observation. In this they did not succeed. It was a cloudy night,
but still the moon gave some light, and the horsemen, who proved to be
Mr. Hale, (who had been unexpectedly called home,) his brother the
Captain, and a servant, caught a glimpse of them. The gentlemen directly
gave their horses to the servant, and jumping over the pales hastened
towards the pond. The plunderers immediately ran off, and three of them
were soon lost in the plantations. Wildgoose, however, in the hurry set
his foot in a drain, threw himself down, and was taken.
When told his name and place of abode, Mr. Hale said, that "he
remembered his father as an honest and industrious man:" indeed the sad
accident by which he lost his life, had made his name known throughout
the neighbourhood. And then addressing himself to his prisoner, "Young
man," said he, "I respected your father, and have heard that your mother
bears an excellent character; I am therefore, heartily sorry to find
that their son has taken to such bad practices. It is well for you that
I did not come up a little later, after you had carried your scheme into
execution. Had that been the case, you might have been transported."
"Transported!" said Wildgoose in astonishment, "what, transported for
taking a few fish!" "Yes, transported," replied the magistrate; "if a
man steals fish from a pond in any inclosed ground, he is, upon
conviction before one Justice, to be sentenced to pay five pounds: but
if he enters into any park, or paddock, or garden adjoining to a house,
and steals fish from any river, or pond in it, he is liable to be
indicted at the Assizes, and transported for seven years[c]. The law
often finds it necessary to protect, by a severe penalty, property that
is much exposed; and when a man is daring enough to carry on his
depredations in the very homestead of his neighbour, he requires a
severe punishment. In the present case, though your intention is
sufficiently clear, I have no wish, and do not feel bound, to prosecute
you. Nor shall I (as I might do) sue you for the trespass. Go home to
your mother, and never again allow yourself to be led by bad advisers
into the like crime."
[Footnote c: See Note [C.]]
Jack had told his mother that he was going to a friend at a distance,
and should not return home that night. This made her sadly anxious; but
she knew by experience that persuasion was lost upon him. When he
returned home in the morning, she was confirmed in the suspicion that
something was wrong. From his intimacy with Will Atkins she concluded he
had been upon some poaching scheme; and determined, as she could do
nothing herself, to try what effect Mr. Hooker could produce upon her
son. It was not long before a good opportunity offered. Just as Jack
left Mr. Hale's paddock, a heavy rain had come on, which soon soaked his
clothes. Wet as he was, he got into a shed, partly for shelter, and
partly to fill up the time, till his mother was up in the morning to let
him in. The consequence was, that he caught a severe cold, attended with
so much fever and head-ache, that he was unfit to go to work. Mr. Hooker
called, and having kindly enquired after his health, began giving some
hints on the subject of poaching. Jack sulkily answered, that "no one
had a right to consider him as a poacher, until he was caught." Mr.
Hooker, however, who had had some communication with Sir John's keeper,
soon let him know that he had good ground for what he said; and
endeavoured to make him sensible of the criminality and danger of his
conduct. Jack would not acknowledge that poaching was wrong. Stealing he
knew was disgraceful and sinful. To carry off a sheep, or to rob a
henroost, deserved, he allowed, to be severely punished; "but," said he,
"I cannot see the harm of _poaching_: animals that run wild by nature
belong to nobody, and any body that can has a right to catch them. I
don't know why it is more wrong to kill a partridge than it is to kill a
crow or a sparrow; or why catching a hare is worse than knocking down a
squirrel." "The laws of the land," said Mr. Hooker, "have made a
difference between those animals, and it is the duty of every man to
obey the laws of the country in which he lives." "Not," answered Jack,
"if the laws are hard or unfair." "Our duty," replied Mr. Hooker, "is to
obey the laws as we find them. If every one were at liberty to reject
such laws as he disliked, we might almost as well have no laws at all.
The thief would cast off the laws against stealing; the drunkard those
against drunkenness; and of course the poacher would have no laws
against poaching. The Scriptures teach us _to submit ourselves to every
ordinance of man_; why? _for the Lord's sake_:--as a matter of religious
duty. They bid us to be subject not only for wrath, for fear of
punishment, but _for conscience sake_. They teach us _to obey
magistrates_: to be dutiful _to the king as supreme, and to magistrates
as to them that are sent by him for the punishment of evil doers, and
the praise of them that do well_. Remember, therefore, that quiet
obedience to the laws of the land is a Christian duty. We are to obey
the laws, whether we approve of them or not: but perhaps, after all, the
laws against poaching are not so unreasonable as you take them to be.
Upon what do the hares, and pheasants, and partridges feed?" "Why, upon
a number of things; chiefly upon the grass and corn, and such like; and
a deal of mischief they do." "Well then, being supported by the produce
of the land, they ought in some way to belong to the land; but as from
their wildness they move about from place to place, it is for the law to
say in what manner they shall belong to it; and the law does this by
making a certain property in land the principal qualification for
killing game. Perhaps I may think that some alteration in the
qualification might be an advantage; but I am not a lawgiver, Jack, any
more than you; and as I said before, we are to obey the laws as we find
them." "It's very well," said Jack, sulkily, "for a gentleman like you
to talk about obedience to the laws, but I don't know what good the laws
do to such a poor fellow as I am." Mr. Hooker did not immediately notice
this, but, seeming to change the conversation, said, "By the bye, John,
I was sorry to hear of your quarrel with Tom Nutman, the blacksmith at
Ratton. I'm told that he threatens to break every bone in your skin. Are
you not afraid of meeting him?" "Afraid," said Jack, "let him touch me
if he dare." "Why, do you think that he is prevented by any sense of
religion from putting his threat in execution?" "Religion! he has no
more religion than a dog." "Oh! then you think that he is afraid of you,
and that you are more than a match for him?" "Why no, I can't say
that:--he's much the strongest man of the two, and is a noted prize
fighter." "Then why should he not dare to touch you?" "Because he
knows, that if he should strike me, I should get a warrant against him,
and have him off to prison before he was a day older." "Oh! that is what
you mean, is it? it seems then that the law is of some use to you, poor
as you are. And as you say that he is not influenced by the fear of God,
what is there that prevents his coming to-morrow, with half a dozen of
the Ratton men, carrying off every thing in your mother's shop, and
breaking your head if you said a word against it?--The laws of the land
certainly, which he knows would severely punish his wrong doing." John
was forced to acknowledge, that even the poor had an interest in the
protection afforded by the law to persons and property.
"But," continued Mr. Hooker, "poaching is positively wrong, not only as
it is a breach of the laws, but on many other accounts. It is plainly
contrary to the great rule of doing as you would be done by. You would
not like, if the law gave you a right to any particular thing, to have
any man come and take that thing from you: and so, when the proprietor
of an estate and manor, like Sir John, is at much expence and trouble
in order to preserve the game, which the law gives him a right to
preserve, it is clearly wrong, and in opposition to the great rule which
I have mentioned, for any man to invade that right. Besides, poaching is
apt to bring a man into bad company, which is always most dangerous. The
habit of being out at nights makes him familiar with deeds which shun
the light; and too often, if he is disappointed of his game, the poacher
makes up for it by taking poultry, or any thing else he can lay his
hands on. We hear too every day, how poaching leads on to deeds of
violence, and even of bloodshed, in the conflicts which it occasions
with the men, whose duty it is to protect the game. In short, John,
poaching is wrong in itself; it leads a man into a lawless way of life,
and frequently is the beginning of all kinds of wickedness."
Young Wildgoose felt that there was much truth in what Mr. Hooker said;
and though the pride, or stubbornness of his character would not allow
him to acknowledge it at the time, yet when he came to reflect on it
after the clergyman was gone, he pretty much determined within himself
that he would give up the sinful and dangerous practice into which he
had been drawn. Perhaps some private reason came in aid of his good
resolution. He stuck to his work; kept away from the Fighting Cocks; and
avoided the company of Will Atkins and his old associates. His mother
observed the alteration in his conduct with heartfelt pleasure. From the
odd temper of her son, she thought it might be prudent not to say much
about it: but she was particularly kind in her manner to him, and did
all that she could to make his home comfortable. Young Wildgoose felt
this as he ought, and for some time every thing went on well.
Unhappily one evening in November, as John was returning from his work,
he accidentally fell in with his old companion Atkins: "Why, Jack,"
cried he, "what have you been doing with yourself? We never see thee
among us now; and many a merry night have we had. What has made thee so
shy of late?" Wildgoose told him that he was going to turn over a new
leaf, and had given up poaching. "Well now, I'm sorry for that; but
still that's no reason why you should'nt now and then join a friend or
two over a pot of beer; so come along with me to Tomkins's. He'll be
quite glad to see thee again." John refused with some steadiness, but
Atkins said so much, with a sort of good-humoured raillery, that at last
he gave way. In one pot of ale he thought there could be no harm.
At the Fighting Cocks they found four or five of Will Atkins's
particular friends sitting round the fire. They had not been drinking
much, seemed sociable and friendly, and talked about any thing that came
uppermost. Wildgoose soon went beyond the quantity, to which he had
stinted himself; when all at once Atkins called out, "Come now, Jack, do
tell us what could possess you to give up sporting. You used to take as
much pleasure in it as any gentleman in the land." John was taken by
surprise, and did not well know what to answer. At length he fairly
acknowledged that he gave it up in consequence of what Mr. Hooker had
said to him. "Well now, that is too bad," said Will, "I thought that you
had been a lad of too much spirit to be talked over by a parson. I
concluded that you had some real good reason, and never should have
guessed that you had nothing more to say for yourself than that." John
replied, that Mr. Hooker spoke very kindly to him; and that in what he
said, he seemed to have both sense and Scripture on his side.
"Scripture!" exclaimed Bob Fowler, "why sure enough Jack Wildgoose is
turned methodist." They all laughed heartily at the joke, and went on
for some time bantering Wildgoose upon his being so straight-laced. Jack
never could stand being laughed at. He had not resolution enough to hold
fast his integrity, when his integrity exposed him to ridicule. He did
not remember the words of the prophet, _Fear ye not the reproach of men,
neither be afraid of their revilings_: nor those of our Saviour,
_Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words_--that is, ashamed of
being religious, of being a Christian--_in this adulterous and sinful
generation, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when he cometh in his
glory with his holy angels_. In short, Atkins and his comrades plied
Jack Wildgoose so successfully with ale and bantering, that he gave up
his good resolutions, and agreed to accompany them on a scheme which
they had already planned for making an attack upon Sir John's preserve.
They sat drinking till past twelve o'clock at night, and then repaired
by different roads to the scene of action.
It so happened, that the keepers had received some information, which
had carried them to the opposite side of the manor. The gang, therefore,
carried on their operations for some time without interruption; and when
their firing had drawn the keepers towards them, one of the party, who
had been posted on the look-out, contrived to give them a signal, so
that they got away without difficulty. They returned to their rendezvous
loaded with pheasants, for which Tomkins paid them a good price, with
some gin into the bargain. They gave Wildgoose more than his fair share
of the money by way of encouragement; and agreed to meet again on the
following Thursday.
On that day they determined to try their luck in the wood which covers
the north side of the hill, just at the outside of Sir John's park. The
party consisted of Black Will, Bob Fowler, John Wildgoose, Tom Cade, and
one more. Will and Bob were provided with guns; the rest had bludgeons,
in order to assist them, in case of any interruption from the keepers.
Atkins and Cade entered the wood from the park, and the three others a
little lower down. Atkins had just fired at a pheasant, when one of the
under keepers jumped up out of the ditch, and calling out, "Holloa! what
are you at there?" ran to Atkins, and collared him. Tom, who was at a
small distance behind a tree, immediately came to his friend's
assistance, and a well aimed blow of his bludgeon laid the assailant at
their feet. At this moment the head keeper and several of Sir John's men
came up, and secured Tom. The other poachers were brought by the noise
to the field of battle, and attempted to rescue their comrade; but as
Fowler was aiming a blow at the man who had hold of him, one of Sir
John's garden men struck him on the right arm, just above the elbow,
with such tremendous force, that the bone was broken. The poachers, who
before had begun to find that the keepers were too many for them,
immediately ran, leaving Bob wounded, and Tom a prisoner. The former, in
consequence of the hurt which he had received, was allowed to return to
his family; but Tom was carried off to a magistrate, and then to gaol,
in order to take his trial at the ensuing Quarter Sessions. The other
three, when they found themselves safe from pursuit, slackened their
pace. Will first broke silence, by exclaiming, "A pretty business we
have made of it to-night. Well, we can't always manage as we did last
week; but I hate to go home empty-handed." They were now passing through
the orchard at the back of Farmer Dobson's house, when Will spied some
turkeys, which had imprudently chosen to roost in the trees, instead of
going into the poultry house. The opportunity was tempting; and for want
of other game, Will twitched two of them from their branch, and carried
them off so quietly, that the farmer's dog did not utter a single bark.
Wildgoose was a good deal shocked at this. In the pursuit of game,
though illegal, he thought there was something spirited and manly; but
revolted at the idea of _stealing_. What Mr. Hooker had said on the
tendency of poaching to lead on to other crimes occurred to him. He
ventured to remonstrate; but Will answered, "Why, what's the harm? The
old fellow is rich enough, and can well spare a turkey or two. If I had
left them, they would only have bought a little more finery for his
daughters." John still persisted that stealing was dishonourable, but
his comrade replied, "Come, come, let's have no more preaching; in our
way of life a man must not mind trifles. To tell you the truth, I have
done as much by a sheep before now;--only then, to be sure, I had a
little bit of a grudge against the farmer, and I knew he could easily
afford it." Wildgoose was more and more staggered. He saw how easily a
man, who was in the habit of breaking the laws in one instance, could go
on to break them in another, but gave up arguing the point with his
companion.
Fowler contrived to get home with his broken arm before the morning.
When the surgeon arrived, he found that the fracture was a bad one; and
the worse from the severe bruise with which it was accompanied. On the
Saturday morning, his wife, who had four small children, went to the
overseer for relief. "And so you think," said he, "Nanny, that because
your husband has thrown himself out of work, by his own misconduct, he
is to be supported out of the pockets of the farmers? We have enough to
do to pay rents and taxes, and provide for our own families, without
having to provide for the families of poachers. If your husband had met
with an accident in an honest way, I'm sure, I for one should have been
for giving him all possible assistance; and no farmer in the parish
would have said a word against it: but it is very hard that we should be
expected to pay for his bad deeds." Nanny Fowler felt the truth of what
he said, but replied, "that still they must not starve." "It is true,"
answered the overseer, "the law does say that nobody shall starve; but
you must not expect much more from me than is just necessary to keep you
from starving. I'm sorry, Nanny, for you and your children, but when the
father of a family breaks the laws, he must expect his family to suffer
for it as well as himself. It is in the nature of things that it should
be so. You shall have from the parish just what is necessary; but even
that you shall receive by way of loan[d], and if your husband recovers
the use of his arm, we shall compel him to repay it in the summer. If
his arm never gets well again, which I fear may possibly be the case,
we can't expect to get the money back; but we shall not maintain him in
idleness. We shall set him to do what he can; and if he earns but a
little, and is kept but just from starving, he will have no one to blame
but himself."
[Footnote d: See Note [D.]]
The bad success of the last expedition, and the loss of strength which
they had sustained, kept the gang of plunderers comparatively quiet.
Jack Wildgoose, however, and Black Will, again took to their old
practice of wiring hares[e]; and contrived to dispose of a considerable
number. The keepers were aware of it, but somehow could never manage to
come upon them exactly at the right time. One Sunday morning, when Jack
had gone round to examine into the state of his snares, and had just
taken up a hare with the wire round its neck, Stokes the under-keeper,
who had been concealed on the other side of the hedge, suddenly started
up, and caught him in the fact. An information against him was
immediately laid by one of Stokes's fellow-servants; a summons was
procured; and John Wildgoose appeared at the Justice meeting, which took
place next day.
[Footnote e: See Note [E.]]