CHAPTER IX.
IT was a pretty, quaint farmhouse, such as might well go with two or
three hundred acres of tolerably good land, tolerably well farmed by
an active old-fashioned tenant, who, though he did not use
mowing-machines nor steam-ploughs nor dabble in chemical experiments,
still brought an adequate capital to his land and made the capital
yield a very fair return of interest. The supper was laid out in a
good-sized though low-pitched parlour with a glazed door, now wide
open, as were all the latticed windows, looking into a small garden,
rich in those straggling old English flowers which are nowadays
banished from gardens more pretentious and; infinitely less fragrant.
At one corner was an arbour covered with honeysuckle, and opposite to
it a row of beehives. The room itself had an air of comfort, and that
sort of elegance which indicates the presiding genius of feminine
taste. There were shelves suspended to the wall by blue ribbons, and
filled with small books neatly bound; there were flower-pots in all
the window-sills; there was a small cottage piano; the walls were
graced partly with engraved portraits of county magnates and prize
oxen; partly with samplers in worsted-work, comprising verses of moral
character and the names and birthdays of the farmer's grandmother,
mother, wife, and daughters. Over the chimney-piece was a small
mirror, and above that the trophy of a fox's brush; while niched into
an angle in the room was a glazed cupboard, rich with specimens of old
china, Indian and English.
The party consisted of the farmer, his wife, three buxom daughters,
and a pale-faced slender lad of about twenty, the only son, who did
not take willingly to farming: he had been educated at a superior
grammar school, and had high notions about the March of Intellect and
the Progress of the Age.
Kenelm, though among the gravest of mortals, was one of the least shy.
In fact shyness is the usual symptom of a keen /amour propre/; and of
that quality the youthful Chillingly scarcely possessed more than did
the three Fishes of his hereditary scutcheon. He felt himself
perfectly at home with his entertainers; taking care, however, that
his attentions were so equally divided between the three daughters as
to prevent all suspicion of a particular preference. "There is safety
in numbers," thought he, especially in odd numbers. The three Graces
never married, neither did the nine Muses."
"I presume, young ladies, that you are fond of music," said Kenelm,
glancing at the piano.
"Yes, I love it dearly," said the eldest girl, speaking for the
others.
Quoth the farmer, as he heaped the stranger's plate with boiled beef
and carrots, "Things are not what they were when I was a boy; then it
was only great tenant-farmers who had their girls taught the piano,
and sent their boys to a good school. Now we small folks are for
helping our children a step or two higher than our own place on the
ladder."
"The schoolmaster is abroad," said the son, with the emphasis of a
sage adding an original aphorism to the stores of philosophy.
"There is, no doubt, a greater equality of culture than there was in
the last generation," said Kenelm. "People of all ranks utter the
same commonplace ideas in very much the same arrangements of syntax.
And in proportion as the democracy of intelligence extends--a friend
of mine, who is a doctor, tells me that complaints formerly reserved
to what is called aristocracy (though what that word means in plain
English I don't know) are equally shared by the commonalty--
/tic-douloureux/ and other neuralgic maladies abound. And the
human race, in England at least, is becoming more slight and
delicate. There is a fable of a man who, when he became exceedingly
old, was turned into a grasshopper. England is very old, and is
evidently approaching the grasshopper state of development. Perhaps
we don't eat as much beef as our forefathers did. May I ask you for
another slice?"
Kenelm's remarks were somewhat over the heads of his audience. But
the son, taking them as a slur upon the enlightened spirit of the age,
coloured up and said, with a knitted brow, "I hope, sir, that you are
not an enemy to progress."
"That depends: for instance, I prefer staying here, where I am well
off, to going farther and faring worse."
"Well said!" cried the farmer.
Not deigning to notice that interruption, the son took up Kenelm's
reply with a sneer, "I suppose you mean that it is to fare worse, if
you march with the time."
"I am afraid we have no option but to march with the time; but when we
reach that stage when to march any farther is to march into old age,
we should not be sorry if time would be kind enough to stand still;
and all good doctors concur in advising us to do nothing to hurry
him."
"There is no sign of old age in this country, sir; and thank Heaven we
are not standing still!"
"Grasshoppers never do; they are always hopping and jumping, and
making what they think 'progress,' till (unless they hop into the
water and are swallowed up prematurely by a carp or a frog) they die
of the exhaustion which hops and jumps unremitting naturally produce.
May I ask you, Mrs. Saunderson, for some of that rice-pudding?"
The farmer, who, though he did not quite comprehend Kenelm's
metaphorical mode of arguing, saw delightedly that his wise son looked
more posed than himself, cried with great glee, "Bob, my boy,--Bob,
our visitor is a little too much for you!"
"Oh, no," said Kenelm, modestly. "But I honestly think Mr. Bob would
be a wiser man, and a weightier man, and more removed from the
grasshopper state, if he would think less and eat more pudding."
When the supper was over the farmer offered Kenelm a clay pipe filled
with shag, which that adventurer accepted with his habitual
resignation to the ills of life; and the whole party, excepting Mrs.
Saunderson, strolled into the garden. Kenelm and Mr. Saunderson
seated themselves in the honeysuckle arbour: the girls and the
advocate of progress stood without among the garden flowers. It was a
still and lovely night, the moon at her full. The farmer, seated
facing his hayfields, smoked on placidly. Kenelm, at the third whiff,
laid aside his pipe, and glanced furtively at the three Graces. They
formed a pretty group, all clustered together near the silenced
beehives, the two younger seated on the grass strip that bordered the
flower-beds, their arms over each other's shoulders, the elder one
standing behind them, with the moonlight shining soft on her auburn
hair.
Young Saunderson walked restlessly by himself to and fro the path of
gravel.
"It is a strange thing," ruminated Kenelm, "that girls are not
unpleasant to look at if you take them collectively,--two or three
bound up together; but if you detach any one of them from the bunch,
the odds are that she is as plain as a pikestaff. I wonder whether
that bucolical grasshopper, who is so enamoured of the hop and jump
that he calls 'progress,' classes the society of the Mormons among the
evidences of civilized advancement? There is a good deal to be said
in favour of taking a whole lot of wives as one may buy a whole lot of
cheap razors. For it is not impossible that out of a dozen a good one
may be found. And then, too, a whole nosegay of variegated blooms,
with a faded leaf here and there, must be more agreeable to the eye
than the same monotonous solitary lady's smock. But I fear these
reflections are naughty; let us change them. Farmer," he said aloud,
"I suppose your handsome daughters are too fine to assist you much. I
did not see them among the haymakers."
"Oh, they were there, but by themselves, in the back part of the
field. I did not want them to mix with all the girls, many of whom
are strangers from other places. I don't know anything against them;
but as I don't know anything for them, I thought it as well to keep my
lasses apart."
"But I should have supposed it wiser to keep your son apart from them.
I saw him in the thick of those nymphs."
"Well," said the farmer, musingly, and withdrawing his pipe from his
lips, "I don't think lasses not quite well brought up, poor things! do
as much harm to the lads as they can do to proper-behaved lasses;
leastways my wife does not think so. 'Keep good girls from bad
girls,' says she, 'and good girls will never go wrong.' And you will
find there is something in that when you have girls of your own to
take care of."
"Without waiting for that time, which I trust may never occur, I can
recognize the wisdom of your excellent wife's observation. My own
opinion is, that a woman can more easily do mischief to her own sex
than to ours; since, of course, she cannot exist without doing
mischief to somebody or other."
"And good, too," said the jovial farmer, thumping his fist on the
table. "What should we be without women?"
"Very much better, I take it, sir. Adam was as good as gold, and
never had a qualm of conscience or stomach till Eve seduced him into
eating raw apples."
"Young man, thou'st been crossed in love. I see it now. That's why
thou look'st so sorrowful."
"Sorrowful! Did you ever know a man crossed in love who looked less
sorrowful when he came across a pudding?"
"Hey! but thou canst ply a good knife and fork, that I will say for
thee." Here the farmer turned round, and gazed on Kenelm with
deliberate scrutiny. That scrutiny accomplished, his voice took a
somewhat more respectful tone, as he resumed, "Do you know that you
puzzle me somewhat?"
"Very likely. I am sure that I puzzle myself. Say on."
"Looking at your dress and--and--"
"The two shillings you gave me? Yes--"
"I took you for the son of some small farmer like myself. But now I
judge from your talk that you are a college chap,--anyhow, a
gentleman. Be n't it so?"
"My dear Mr. Saunderson, I set out on my travels, which is not long
ago, with a strong dislike to telling lies. But I doubt if a man can
get along through this world without finding that the faculty of lying
was bestowed on him by Nature as a necessary means of self-
preservation. If you are going to ask me any questions about
myself, I am sure that I shall tell you lies. Perhaps, therefore, it
may be best for both if I decline the bed you proffered me, and take
my night's rest under a hedge."
"Pooh! I don't want to know more of a man's affairs than he thinks fit
to tell me. Stay and finish the haymaking. And I say, lad, I'm glad
you don't seem to care for the girls; for I saw a very pretty one
trying to flirt with you, and if you don't mind she'll bring you into
trouble."
"How? Does she want to run away from her uncle?"
"Uncle! Bless you, she don't live with him! She lives with her
father; and I never knew that she wants to run away. In fact, Jessie
Wiles--that's her name--is, I believe, a very good girl, and everybody
likes her,--perhaps a little too much; but then she knows she's a
beauty, and does not object to admiration."
"No woman ever does, whether she's a beauty or not. But I don't yet
understand why Jessie Wiles should bring me into trouble."
"Because there is a big hulking fellow who has gone half out of his
wits for her; and when he fancies he sees any other chap too sweet on
her he thrashes him into a jelly. So, youngster, you just keep your
skin out of that trap."
"Hem! And what does the girl say to those proofs of affection? Does
she like the man the better for thrashing other admirers into jelly?"
"Poor child! No; she hates the very sight of him. But he swears she
shall marry nobody else if he hangs for it. And, to tell you the
truth, I suspect that if Jessie does seem to trifle with others a
little too lightly, it is to draw away this bully's suspicion from the
only man I think she does care for,--a poor sickly young fellow who
was crippled by an accident, and whom Tom Bowles could brain with his
little finger."
"This is really interesting," cried Kenelm, showing something like
excitement. "I should like to know this terrible suitor."
"That's easy eno'," said the farmer, dryly. "You have only to take a
stroll with Jessie Wiles after sunset, and you'll know more of Tom
Bowles than you are likely to forget in a month."
"Thank you very much for your information," said Kenelm, in a soft
tone, grateful but pensive. "I hope to profit by it."
"Do. I should be sorry if any harm came to thee; and Tom Bowles in
one of his furies is as bad to cross as a mad bull. So now, as we
must be up early, I'll just take a look round the stables, and then
off to bed; and I advise you to do the same."
"Thank you for the hint. I see the young ladies have already gone in.
Good-night."
Passing through the garden, Kenelm encountered the junior Saunderson.
"I fear," said the Votary of Progress, "that you have found the
governor awful slow. What have you been talking about?"
"Girls," said Kenelm, "a subject always awful, but not necessarily
slow."
"Girls,--the governor been talking about girls? You joke."
"I wish I did joke, but that is a thing I could never do since I came
upon earth. Even in the cradle, I felt that life was a very serious
matter, and did not allow of jokes. I remember too well my first dose
of castor-oil. You too, Mr. Bob, have doubtless imbibed that
initiatory preparation to the sweets of existence. The corners of
your mouth have not recovered from the downward curves into which it
so rigidly dragged them. Like myself, you are of grave temperament,
and not easily moved to jocularity,--nay, an enthusiast for Progress
is of necessity a man eminently dissatisfied with the present state of
affairs. And chronic dissatisfaction resents the momentary relief of
a joke."
"Give off chaffing, if you please," said Bob, lowering the didascular
intonations of his voice, "and just tell me plainly, did not my father
say anything particular about me?"
"Not a word: the only person of the male sex of whom he said anything
particular was Tom Bowles."
"What, fighting Tom! the terror of the whole neighbourhood! Ah, I
guess the old gentleman is afraid lest Tom may fall foul upon me. But
Jessie Wiles is not worth a quarrel with that brute. It is a crying
shame in the Government--"
"What! has the Government failed to appreciate the heroism of Tom
Bowles, or rather to restrain the excesses of its ardour?"
"Stuff! it is a shame in the Government not to have compelled his
father to put him to school. If education were universal--"
"You think there would be no brutes in particular. It may be so; but
education is universal in China, and so is the bastinado. I thought,
however, that you said the schoolmaster was abroad, and that the age
of enlightenment was in full progress."
"Yes, in the towns, but not in these obsolete rural districts; and
that brings me to the point. I feel lost, thrown away here. I have
something in me, sir, and it can only come out by collision with equal
minds. So do me a favour, will you?"
"With the greatest pleasure."
"Give the governor a hint that he can't expect me, after the education
I have had, to follow the plough and fatten pigs; and that Manchester
is the place for ME."
"Why Manchester?"
"Because I have a relation in business there who will give me a
clerkship if the governor will consent. And Manchester rules
England."
"Mr. Bob Saunderson, I will do my best to promote your wishes. This
is a land of liberty, and every man should choose his own walk in it,
so that, at the last, if he goes to the dogs, he goes to them without
that disturbance of temper which is naturally occasioned by the sense
of being driven to their jaws by another man against his own will. He
has then no one to blame but himself. And that, Mr. Bob, is a great
comfort. When, having got into a scrape, we blame others, we
unconsciously become unjust, spiteful, uncharitable, malignant,
perhaps revengeful. We indulge in feelings which tend to demoralize
the whole character. But when we only blame ourselves, we become
modest and penitent. We make allowances for others. And indeed
self-blame is a salutary exercise of conscience, which a really good
man performs every day of his life. And now, will you show me the
room in which I am to sleep, and forget for a few hours that I am
alive at all: the best thing that can happen to us in this world, my
dear Mr. Bob! There's never much amiss with our days, so long as we
can forget about them the moment we lay our heads on the pillow."
The two young men entered the house amicably, arm in arm. The girls
had already retired, but Mrs. Saunderson was still up to conduct her
visitor to the guest's chamber,--a pretty room which had been
furnished twenty-two years ago on the occasion of the farmer's
marriage, at the expense of Mrs. Saunderson's mother, for her own
occupation when she paid them a visit, and with its dimity curtains
and trellised paper it still looked as fresh and new as if decorated
and furnished yesterday.
Left alone, Kenelm undressed, and before he got into bed, bared his
right arm, and doubling it, gravely contemplated its muscular
development, passing his left hand over that prominence in the upper
part which is vulgarly called the ball. Satisfied apparently with the
size and the firmness of that pugilistic protuberance, he gently
sighed forth, "I fear I shall have to lick Thomas Bowles." In five
minutes more he was asleep.
