NO. 4.]

[VOL. 2. N.S.

WI

ITHIN a short distance, of my own habitation stands a pic turesque old church, remote from any town or hamlet, save that village of the dead contained within the precincts of its own sequestered burial-ground. It is however the parish church of a large rural district, comprising several small hamlets, and numerous farms and cottages, together with the scattered residences of the neighboring gentry; and hither (there being no other place of worship within the parish boundary) its population may be seen for the most part resorting on Sundays, by various roads, lanes, heath tracks, coppice and field-paths, all diverging from that consecrated centre. The church itself, nearly in the midst of a very beautiful church-yard, rich in old carved headstones, and bright verdure, roofing the nameless graves--the church itself stands on the brow of a finely wooded knoll, commanding a diversified expanse of heath, forest, and cultivated land; and it is a beautiful sight on Sundays, on a fine autumn Sunday in particular, when the ferns are assuming their rich browns, and the forest trees their exquisite gradations of colour, such as no limner upon earth can paint-to see the people approaching in all directions, now winding in long straggling files over the open common, now abruptly disappearing amongst its innumerable shrubby declivities, and again emerging into sight through the boles of the old oaks that encircle the churchyard, standing in their majestic beauty, like sentinels over the slumbers of the dead. From two several quarters across the heath, approach the more 17 ATHENEUM VOL. 2. 2d series.

condensed currents of the living stream; one, the inhabitants of a far distant hamlet, the other, comprising the population of two smaller ones, within a shorter distance of the church. And from many lanes and leafy glades, and through many field-paths and stiles, advance small groups of neighbours, and families, and social pairs, and here and there a solitary aged person, who totters leisurely along, supported by his trusty companion, his stout oak staff, not undutifully consigned by his neglectful children to that silent companionship, but willingly loitering behind to enjoy the luxury of the aged, the warmth of the cheerful sun-beams, the serene beauty of nature, the fruitful aspect of the ripening corn-fields, the sound of near and mirthful voices, the voices of children and grandchildren, and a sense of quiet happiness, partaking surely of that peace which passeth all understanding.

And sometimes the venerable Elder comes, accompanied by his old faithful helpmate; and then they may be seen once more side by side, her arm again locked within his as in the days of courtship; not, as then, resting on his more vigorous frame, for they have grown old and feeble together; and of the twain, the burthen of years lies heaviest upon the husband, for his has been the hardest portion of labour. In the prime of life, during the full flush of his manly vigour, and of her healthful comeliness, he was wont to walk sturdily onward, discoursing between whiles with his buxom partner, as she followed with her little ones; but now they are grown up into men and wo

burnt, curly-pated boys, clustering together over the stile and about it, like a bunch of swarming bees? The confused sound of their voices is like the hum of a swarm too, and they are debating of grave and weighty matters; of nuts ripening in thick clusters down in Fairlee Copse, of trouts of prodigious magnitude leaping by the bridge below the Mill-head; of apples-and the young heads crowd closer together, and the buzzing voices sink to a whisper-"Of cherry-cheeked apples hanging just within reach of one who should climb upon the roof of the old shed, by the corner of the south wall of Squire Mills's orchard." Ah Squire Mills! I would not give sixpence for all the apples you shall gather off that famous red-streak to-morrow. But who comes there across the field towards the stile? a very youthful couple-Sweethearts, one should guess, if it were not that they were so far asunder, and look as if they had not spoken a word to each other this half hour. Ah! they were not so far asunder before they turned out of the shady lane into that open field, in sight of all the folk gathering into the churchyard, and of those mischievous boys, one of whom is brother to that pretty Fanny Payne, whose downcast looks, and grave, sober walk, so far from the young miller, will not save her from running the gauntlet of their teazing jokes as she passes-and pass she must, through the knot of conspirators. Never mind it, Fanny Payne! Put a good face on the matter, and above all, beware of knitting up that fair brow into anything like a frown, as you steal a passing glance at that provoking brother of yours; it will only bring down upon you a thicker shower of saucy jests.-See! see! that little old man, so old and shrivelled, and lean and wizen, and mummy coloured; he looks as if he had been embalmed and inhumed a century ago, and had just now walked out of his swathing bands, a specimen of the year one thousand seven hundred and ten. His periwig is so well plastered with flour and hog's lard, that its large sausage side curls look as durably consistent, as the "eternal buckles cut in Parian stone" that have immortaliz

ed Sir Cloudesley Shovel; and from behind dangles half-way down his back, a long taper pig-tail, wound round with black ribbon, the which, about half-way, is tied into an elegant rosette. On the top of that same periwig is perched a diminutive cocked hat-with such a cock! so fierce! so triangular! the little squat crown so buried within its triple fortification! The like was never seen, save in the shape of those coloured sugar comfits called cock'd-hats, that are stuck up in long glasses in the confectioners' windows, to attract the eyes of poor longing urchins; and his face is triangular too, the exact centre of his forehead where it meets the periwig, being the apex thereof his nose is triangular-his little red eyes are triangular—his person is altogether triangular, from the sloping narrow shoulders, to where it widens out, corresponding with the broad square fantail flaps of that green velveteen coat. He is a walking triangle! and he carries his cane behind him, holding it with both hands wide apart, exactly parallel with the square line of his coat-flaps. See! he is bustling up to join that small group of substantial farmers, amongst whom he is evidently a person of no small consequence; they think him," as one should say, Sir Oracle," for he knows every fluctuation of stocks to a fraction

criticizes the minister's discoursesexpounds the prophecies-explains all about the milleniums and the number of the beast-foretells changes of weather-knows something of physic and surgery-gives charms for the ague and rheumatiz--makes ink--mends pens, and writes a wonderful fine hand, with such flourishes, that without taking his pen off the paper, he can represent the figures of Adam and Eve, in the involutions composing the initial capitals of their names! He is "Sir Oracle," and not the less so, because people do not exactly know what he has been, and where he comes from. Some think he has been a schoolmaster-others conjecture that he has been a doctor of some sort, or a schemer in mechanics, about which he talks very scientifically-or in the funds or in some foreign commercial concern, for he has

certainly lived long in foreign parts, and is often heard talking to his old grey parrot in some outlandish tongue, and the bird seems to understand it well, and replies in the same language. There are not wanting some, who suspect that he has not been always in his perfect mind; but however that may be, he is perfectly harmless now, and has conducted himself unexceptionably ever since he came to settle in the village of Downe, ten years ago. In all that time he has never been known to receive within his dwelling any former friend or kinsman, and he has never stirred beyond the boundary of the parish, but to go once a-year to the banker's in the nearest town, to receive a small sum of money, for which he draws on a mercantile house in Lombard Street. He boards and lodges with a widow, who has a neat little cottage in the village, and he cultivates the finest polyanthuses and auriculars in the flower-plot, of which she has yielded up the management to him, that were ever beheld in that neighbourhood. He is very fond of flowers, and dumb animals, and children; and also the children in the place love him, and the old white Pomeranian dog, blind of one eye,who follows his master everywhere except to church. Now you know as much as I or any one knows of Master Jacob Marks, more, perhaps, than was worth telling, but I could not leave such an original subject half-sketched. Behold that jolly-looking farmer and his family approaching up the green lane that leads from their habitation, that old substantial-looking farm-house yonder, half embowered in its guar

dian elms.

They are a portly couple, the farmer and his wife! He, a hale, florid, fine looking man, on whose broad open brow time has scarcely imprinted a furrow, though it has changed to silky whiteness the raven hue of those locks, once so thickly clustered about his temples. There is a consciousness of wealth and prosperity, and of rural consequence, in his general aspect and deportment; but if he loves the good things of this world, and prides himself in possessing them,

there is nothing in the expression of his countenance that bespeaks a selfish and narrow heart, or a covetous disposition. He looks willing to distribute of his abundance, and greetings of cordial goodwill, on both sides, are exchanged between the farmer and such of his labourers as fall into the same path, in their way to the church. Arm-in-arm with her spouse marches his portly helpmate, fat, florid, and, like himself, "redolent" of the good things of this world, corn, and wine, and oil, that sustaineth the heart of man, and maketh him of a cheerful countenance.

A comely and a stately dame is the lady of Farmer Buckwheat, when, as now, she paces by his side, resplendent in her Sunday-going garb, of ample and substantial materials, and all of the very best that can be bought for money. One can calculate the profits of the dairy and the bee-hives, the pin-money of the farmer's ladynot to mention his weightier accumulations-by the richness of that black satin cloak and bonnet, full trimmed with real lace, and by the multitudinous plaits of that respectable-looking snuff-coloured silk gown and coat.

It is true, her old-fashioned prejudices would have been in favour of a large double silk handkerchief, pinned neatly down, and a flowered chintz gown, drawn up through the pocketholes over a white quilted petticoat; but the worthy dame has two fair daughters, and they have been brought up at a boarding-school, and they have half-coaxed, half-teazed their Ma'a out of such antiquated vulgar tastes, though even those pertinacious reformists have been obliged to concede the point of a pelisse in favour of the satin cloak. But when they have conceded one point, they have gained at least two. See, the old lady's short sleeves, neatly frilled just below the elbow, are elongated down to the wrists, and finished there by a fashionable cuff, out of which protrudes the red, fat, fubsy hand, with short dumpty fingers nubbed between, broad and turning up at the tips, looking as if they had been created on purpose to knead dough, press curds,

and put up butter; and, lo! on the fore-finger of the right hand a great garnet ring set in silver, massy enough for the edge of a soup tureen. It is an heir-loom from some great-grandmother, who was somehow related to somebody who was first cousin to a "Barrow-knight," and was herself so very rich a lady-and so the misses have rummaged it out, and forced it down upon their Ma'a's poor dear fat finger, which sticks out as stiffly from the sensation of that unwonted compression, as if it were tied up and poulticed for a whitlow; and the poor lady, in spite of all hints and remonstrances, will walk with her gloves dangling in her hands, instead of on them; and altogether the short pillowy arms cased up in those tight cearments, with both hands and all the fingers spread out as if in act to swim, look, for all the world, like the fins of a turtle, or the flaps of a frightened gosling. Poor worthy dame! but a sense of conscious grandeur supports her under the infliction of this fashionable penance. And then come the Misses Buckwheat, mincing delicately in the wake of their Pa'a and Ma'a, with artificial flowers in their Leghorn bonnets, sky-blue spencers, fawn-coloured boots, flounces up to their knees, a pink parasol in one hand, and a pocket-handkerchief dangling from the other; not neatly folded and carried with the handsome prayerbook in the pretty fashion that so well becomes that fair modest girl, their neighbour's daughter, whose profound ignorance of fashionable dress and manners is looked on as quite pitiable, poor thing!" by the Misses Buckwheat. For what are they intended, I wonder! For farmers' wives? To strain milk, churn butter, fat pigs, feed poultry, weigh out cheeses, and cure bacon hogs? Good lack! They paint landskips! and play on the piano! and dance quadrilles! and make bead purses! and keep Albums! and doat on Moore's Melodies and Lord Byron's poems! They are to be "tutoresses," or companions, orsomething or other-very genteelLadies, for certain, anyway. So they have settled themselves, and so the

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weak, doating mother fondly anticipates, though the father talks as yet only of their prosperous establishment (all classes talk of establishing young ladies now,) as the wives of wealthy graziers, or substantial yeomen, or farmers, or thriving tradesmen. But he drinks his port wine and follows the hounds. And then bringing up the rear of the family procession, lounges on its future representative, its sole son and heir. And he is a smart buck, far too genteel to walk arm-in-arm with his sisters; so he saunters behind, cutting off the innocent heads of the dangling brier-roses, and the tender hazel shoots, with that little jemmy switch, wherewith ever and anon he flaps the long-looped sides of his yellow topped boots; and his white hat is set knowingly on one side, and he wears a coloured silk handkerchief knotted loosely round his throat, and fastened down to the shirt bosom by a shining brooch,-and waistcoat of three colours, pink, blue, and buff,—a grassgreen coat, with black velvet collar, and on his little finger, (the wash leather glove is off on that hand,) a Belcher ring as thick as the coil of a ship's cable. Well done, young Hopeful! That was a clever aim! There goes a whole shower of hazel-tops. What a pity your shearing ingenuity is not as active among the thistles in your father's fields! The family has reached the church-gate; they are entering now; and the farmer, as he passes through, vouchsafes a patronizing nod, and a good-humoured word or two, to that poor widow and her daughter, who stand aside holding the gate open for him, and dropping humble curtsies to every member of the family. The farmer gives them now and then a few days' work,— hoeing, weeding, or stoning, or, at hay or harvest time, on his broad acres; but his daughters wonder "Pa'a should demean himself so far as to nod familiarly to such poor objects." They draw up their chins, flirt their handkerchiefs, and pass on as stiff as pokers. And last, in straggles Master Timothy (He hates that name, by the by, and wishes his sponsors had favour