A DAY AT HAMPSTEAD FAIR.
It is now nearly nineteen years ago, since my uncle Richmond came to stay at this very house, with his two sons. You know, my dears, that your grandfather lived here before we did: I was then about eleven years old.
My uncle, Captain Richmond, was my father's brother, and the commander of a frigate in the navy; he had been on a long cruise, and was passing a few weeks with my father, previously to his going to sea again.
Captain Richmond had lost his wife: he had only two sons; one of whom went to sea as a midshipman, under his father, and the other to the naval academy at Portsmouth. This last was away from school for the vacation; so my uncle brought both of them to stay at my father's house. My poor mother had rather delicate nerves, and these rough sailor-boys discomposed her sadly: for they were as wild as tiger-cats, and as full of mischief as monkeys; they broke her china, insulted her lap-dog; stole her apples; ducked her hens in the pond (that very pond you are so well acquainted with, Kate); and above all, affronted my youngest brother Sam, who was my mother's pet. However, she bore with all these enormities, out of respect to my uncle Richmond, who was a brave, generous sailor, and sincerely attached to all his brother's family. This visit was agreeable enough to us children, only Frank and James Richmond were rather too rough in their play; and they sometimes fell out with my eldest brother, William, bestowing on him the epithets of "land-lubber," and "fresh water spark," when he displeased them. These disputes were generally settled by my uncle with a few strokes of a cat-o'-nine tails that he always carried in his coat-pocket, for the accommodation of his sons. I was always engaged in these quarrels, either on one side or the other; and as I never came in for a share of the blows, I was sometimes wicked enough to laugh at the speed with which my uncle chastised his boys, whether guilty or innocent; and at the coolness with which the stripes were received by the young sailors. My uncle always took it for granted his sons were in the wrong; but if the instrument chanced to glance on the back of either of my brothers, the house resounded with their lamentations.
They had been at our house about six weeks, and were going away in a few days, when the captain said to my mother one evening, "sister, to-morrow is Hampstead fair; and I should like all the young ones to go, and have a day of it."
My mother shook her head, and seemed to disapprove; but my uncle seemed determined to have his own way: besides, my brother Sam set up a loud fit of crying, for fear he should not go. This induced my mother to give her consent; and the nurse-maid, Ann, and our old nurse Hill, were ordered to hold themselves in readiness to attend us to the fair on the morrow. Now my father was in London, where he had to spend two days on business, or he might possibly have put a negative on this arrangement; but as it was, we were all greatly delighted with the plan, particularly uncle Richmond, who declared that he would go with us, and steer us safely along.
In the morning I was awoke by a loud shout under the window from midshipman Frank. I got up quickly, and found my cousins dressed in their uniforms, and looking very smart. Frank promised to be my beau, and to take great care of me. Well, it was past ten o'clock before we were all ready. At last, out we marched in the following order: the nurse-maid led my little sister Jane, and old nurse Hill the darling Sam, of whom my mother had given us all special charge; then came Frank, handing me along very politely, and Captain Richmond, with my brother William and cousin James, brought up the rear. In this manner we proceeded very sedately till we almost reached the town, and began to hear the noise and bustle of the fair. Just as we came to the houses we met a party of naval officers, who began shaking hands with Captain Richmond, and telling him about some recent victory at sea. Away went my uncle Richmond with them, without bestowing a thought on us poor children, whom he had under his care. Then my troubles began. Master James had behaved very peaceably while his father's eye was on him, for he stood in some awe of the cat-o'-nine-tails, which he saw the Captain put into his pocket before he set out; indeed his father said to him, "Jem, if you are not on your best behaviour, you will have a taste of it." But the moment his father was fairly out of sight he began his pranks; he twitched his hand from William, and scampered some way before us, until he met with a quiet old hen, clucking in the dusty road with a few dirty chicks: the moment James saw the hen, he stole softly up, and putting his foot under her, by a dexterous toss, sent her cackling and screaming up in the air, as high as the garret windows of the next house. After performing this exploit, he ran laughing back to us. Now the old woman who owned the hen was enraged to see the unusual flight of the poor creature, and running out, began to abuse James in a very shrill voice, not sparing us, to whom she saw he belonged; but we had certainly no share in the mischief. Mrs. Hill, our nurse, was a woman of too much spirit to put up with so much injustice; she began to scold in return, while the idle boy who had caused the quarrel stood laughing, and provoking the old woman to greater rage. Frank enjoyed the fray as much as his brother, but at last he attended to my intreaties, and persuaded Mrs. Hill to walk on, and leave the angry old woman: but he could not prevail on our good nurse to proceed, till she had quite exhausted her breath in scolding.
Master James seemed to think very highly of himself for this trick; he marched before the whole party with his arms a-kimbo, kicking up the dust, and on the look-out for another mischievous prank. Mrs. Hill, when she had recovered her voice, scolded James for raising the dust: he answered saucily; she retorted, and they entered the fair, wrangling as hard as they could.
When we got among the crowd, James and William escaped from us, and got into a merry-go-round. Frank very kindly staid with me, and handed me about the fair. Sometimes we stopped to look at the fire-eaters, and sometimes to view the Merry-Andrew. The sun shone very hot; and after we had been in the fair about an hour and a half, I became very faint and tired. The place got more and more crowded, and I could hardly move among a throng of people, most of whom were a foot taller than myself. Frank helped me through as well as he could, and we were making the best of our way towards a fruit-stall, when a saucy little drummer pushed me so rudely that I was nearly thrown on my face. Frank asked him how he dared act so? and the drummer answered by twirling Frank's hat round on his head, and calling him a powder-monkey. This was rather more than the little officer chose to bear, he therefore flew at the drummer, and gave him a violent blow; this was immediately returned, and a furious battle began. I escaped, half frighted to death, and luckily found Mrs. Hill and little Sam in a stall close by. In a little time Frank had well pummelled the drummer; but it was of no use waiting for him: he was off, and so were James and William. It was now one o'clock, and little Jane and Sam were very hungry. Nurse Hill proposed going out of the town, and eating the provisions we had brought for dinner in a green meadow at a little distance; but a new difficulty occurred: Master Sam, who had before been very tractable, now spied out a large gingerbread cocked-hat hung in front of a stall close by; this valuable article he insisted on buying; but it was the sign of the stall, and the man it belonged to was loth to sell it. However, after a great deal of bargaining, the man agreed to take three shillings for the hat; this was sixpence more than we had, and he would not take a farthing less, so poor Sam was disappointed; but he thought (as all spoiled children do) to manage matters abroad as he did at home, by a fit of crying: however, all his screaming was of no avail here; and nurse Hill, greatly scandalized at his bad behaviour, took him up in her arms, and carried him, kicking, out of the fair.
We had got to the field where we thought of dining before Sam was pacified; at last we all sat down on the grass, and Ann took out of the basket a nice damask napkin, with some cold roast chicken and ham packed in vine leaves, and a bottle of cyder. We had all drank some of the cyder, which much refreshed us, and just as we were preparing to eat our dinner, a big boy stepped over nurse Hill's shoulder, and seizing the napkin and all that was in it, ran off in an instant. Poor nurse Hill ran after him, scolding and threatening, but it was of no use. The hungry children cried bitterly for their lost dinner, and we had nothing but the cyder left. Ann put the bottle in her basket, thanking her stars that the thief had not taken that. Mrs. Hill thought it best for us to return to the fair, and lay out the money we had left in victuals for the children, and then try to collect the boys together and return home. My head ached with the noise of the fair, and I was loth to go back to it. We had nearly reached the town, when Frank met us; his face was adorned with two black eyes, otherwise he did not seem to have received much damage from the fight.
"Where have you been, you tiresome boy? always fighting and quarrelling, and scaring honest bodies out of their wits," screamed nurse Hill in a shrill voice, as soon as she saw him.
"There, mother Hill," said Frank, "hold your tongue. I have taken no hurt. I suppose you would have had me stood by, and see Mary pushed down and trampled on by that land-lubber? but I dressed his tawdry jacket for him. I say, cousin Mary," continued he, "I have been at the Bush, where my father and a party of officers are dining; and they tell me that Nelson has beaten the French soundly; and my father is appointed Captain of a ship in Nelson's squadron, and we are ordered to sail next week, and I am to go with them; huzza!"
Frank now shouted and capered as if he was wild. I was a little peevish, however, and did not like the noise he made. "I wish," said I, "you would be quiet, Frank, and come back with us to the fair, and help find those mad boys who have run away from us, and then we can go home."
"Well, I will," said Frank; "but I forgot to tell you that my father gave me a guinea when I was at the Bush, to be divided amongst you all for fairings; and if mother Hill and Ann are good-tempered, they shall come in for a share."
This put us all in good-humour. We entered the town in high spirits, and soon got some refreshment, and Sam directly went to the stall to buy the gingerbread hat; but alas, it had been sold while he was gone. This disappointment occasioned another fit of roaring; till, to appease him, Mrs. Hill permitted him to mount one of the horses in a merry-go-round. We stood a few minutes, seeing him spin round in great state, when my brother William came up to us, crying aloud. He had certainly been rolled in the dust, for his coat was covered with dirt. Before we could inquire what was the matter James followed him: he did not cry, but he was in a sad pickle; his nose was streaming with blood, the frill of his shirt hung in tatters, and one skirt of his coat was rent off. We really were not a little ashamed of this addition to our party: for a mob, attracted by the noise William made, began to gather round us. At this moment a hackney-coachman from London drove through the fair, calling, "Who rides? who rides? A ride for a penny a-head." Frank gave him a hail, as he called it. The man drew up, and Frank bustled James and William into the coach; he then packed in nurse Hill, and the maid with the children. As he was handing me up the steps I dropped my shoe among the crowd.
"Oh, my shoe!" I cried; "find my shoe!"
"Never mind your shoe," said Frank, "we cannot look for it among so many people." He then pushed me into the coach, jumped in himself, and the man shut the door.
How we all contrived to get into one coach I cannot think to this day; but when we were in, nurse asked the boys what had ailed them. William began to cry afresh, and James to laugh.
"How came you in such a plight, Jem?" asked Frank.
"Why," said Jem, "you must know that a little while ago William and I went up to a cake stall, and whilst I was bargaining, Master Will peeped through a hole in an oyster-woman's stall close by, and there he saw a little white pitcher standing on one of the tubs; so he stooped down and picked up a pebble, which he threw with such good aim through the hole, that the pitcher, which was full of spirits, broke in pieces, and all the liquor ran among the oysters. The stall-woman flew out like a fury; but she could not have told who had done it, you know, only a great thick-headed boy who stood by pointed at poor Will, and said, "That is the boy who threw the stone." The fish-woman at this began to cuff poor William, and knocked him into the dirt; whilst I, having nothing else to do, gave the boy who had told the tale a good banging; but I believe I came off the worst, for the boy was bigger and stronger than me, though Will has made such a piping for a few thumps."
By the time James had finished relating this mishap the coachman stopped his horses; he said he had given us a good ride for our money, and would go no farther; we offered to pay him handsomely if he would take us home. "No," he said, "he could make more money by driving about the fair, and he would not stir another step."
Think of me, unhappy creature that I was, for I had to walk home with only one shoe. Frank, to do him justice, was very kind, and offered to carry me on his back; but that I did not choose, for fear the people we met should laugh at me. Well, we began to move slowly forward on the road home. I leaned heavily on Frank's arm, and hopped some paces on one foot. This mode of travelling so diverted the mischievous James, and he burst into such immoderate fits of laughter, that I, provoked beyond all endurance, began to cry as if I should break my heart. Frank was much concerned at this, and threatened James that if he were not quiet, he would get him a ropes-ending by telling his father. Frank then took off the black silk handkerchief which he wore round his neck, and tied it about my foot as well as he could, to defend me against the stones. James, who was brought to order by my tears more than by his brother's threats, begged my pardon, and offered to help me along. I took his arm rather sulkily, and, supported by him and Frank, contrived to limp forward a little way.
As we were proceeding homewards in this melancholy manner a post-chaise drove past us. Presently it stopped, and my father jumped out; he came towards us, much astonished at meeting with his children in such a pitiful condition. He first looked at Frank's bruised face, and William's dirty jacket; then at my foot, and James's bloody nose and tattered garments.
"Why, children," he said, "what do you all here so far from home? and who has been misusing you in this manner?"
We all lifted up our voices at once to reply; but nurse Hill contrived to make hers sound the loudest.
"Oh, Sir," she said, "the Captain would take us all to Hampstead fair; but as soon as we got there he left us, and we have met with so many mischances, that I thought I never should have brought the children alive out of the fair."
"So," said my father, "this is just like my mad-cap brother! What could induce their mother to trust so many children to such a hair-brained creature?"
We now complained how tired and hungry we all were; my father had us children put into the chaise, and, bidding the postillion drive at a foot-pace, walked by the side with Frank, hearing from him all our disasters; and indeed we had all contrived to get into some misfortune except our maid Ann, and quiet little Jane.
I hardly need tell you that we were all rejoiced when we arrived at home, and were fed and comforted after our fatigues.
Some days after Captain Richmond and his sons set off for Portsmouth, where his ship lay. It was a long time before I could laugh at our mishaps; indeed I would cry bitterly if any one afterwards proposed our spending another day at Hampstead Fair.
"I do not wonder at it, mamma," said Mary. "Oh, how vexed I should have been! I am afraid that I should have fretted myself quite ill if such disagreeable things had happened to me."
"Therefore, Mary, such places are very improper for you, who cannot bear any little accident with temper. I was not fretful, but I really suffered severely from terror and fatigue. I see that Kate and William are laughing, as if they did not think it very frightful."
"Who can help laughing, mamma?" said William; "but I am sadly afraid, that if Kate and I had gone to the fair we might have got into some mischief, for we are both very careless."
"Your brother William is my father," said Kate to her aunt.
"Yes, my dear girl," said Mrs. Dormer, "and we often now laugh over our misfortunes at Hampstead fair."
The weather proved so wet all the week that it was impossible to go to the fair either of the two remaining days on which it was held; but after the first disappointment was over, the children regretted it very little; and they were made ample amends, by spending another happy, quiet day with Edward and George before they went to school.
The month of July passed away very delightfully. Kate's health was greatly improved by the kind attention and judicious management of her good aunt: the consumptive symptoms that had before threatened her entirely disappeared, and by the middle of August she was considered well enough to go back to school; but previously to that her father wished her to return home with her uncle, aunt, and cousins, to spend some days with him. This gentleman had recently purchased a landed estate in Surrey, which he cultivated himself; and as he had now been for some time comfortably settled in the farm, he came over to invite them into Surrey at the joyous time of the harvest. The invitation was accepted by Mr. and Mrs. Dormer; and the next day the whole party set off for Mr. Richmond's estate. He drove Kate and William in his gig, and Mary and Lewis followed with their father and mother in a post-chaise. They enjoyed the ride greatly; and Kate strove to amuse her father, by relating to him some of the stories she had heard from her aunt.
It was past eight in the evening when they arrived at the farm. They drove round a lawn to a large handsome white house; which, though an old building, had a peculiar air of comfort and cheerfulness. Every thing within, also, appeared very neat; and the children, who had never been in a farm-house before, found plenty of objects to admire. The rows of pewter, which filled a long range of shelves over the dresser, and that rivalled silver itself in brightness, caught the attention of the young strangers; who had a thousand questions to ask of their uncle, for every thing they saw was entirely new to them.
William and Mary ran to the door to look at a fine litter of young pigs, which the dairy-maid was feeding with some milk.
"Look, Mary," said William, "how those little pigs are quarrelling for the milk! how greedy it seems of them, when there is plenty for all!"
"It is very naughty for them to fight," said Lewis, "they are such pretty little white creatures; what a pity it is that they are not good."
"They are indeed very pretty," said Kate; "but you know, Lewis, those things which are the prettiest are not always the best."
They were still amusing themselves by looking at the little pigs, when they were called into the parlour to supper. The children gazed with wonder at the profusion of victuals provided for them. An enormous hot apple-pie smoked in the middle of the table; on each side of it stood two large custards. At one end of the table were three roast chickens and a large ham, and at the other a huge plum-pudding. The journey had made them very hungry, and they did honour to the ample supper that Mrs. Harrison, the good old housekeeper, had provided for them.
The children's eyes were open by sunrise in the morning, and Mary and Kate jumped out of bed, and began dressing with great expedition, when Mary looking out of the window into a green meadow below, exclaimed in a tone of great surprise, "Oh, Kate, come and look at a beautiful creature that is walking about in the meadow below: I never saw any fowl like it before; it is prettier than mamma's stuffed humming-bird."
Kate left off washing her face, and ran to the window, for she could not think what Mary was admiring so much.
"Oh, it is only the peacock," said she.
"How I should like to catch it," said Mary. "Kate, is it tame?"
"Not very, for it runs away and makes a noise if any one comes near it," said Kate; "it was once very tame, but John used to pull the long feathers out of its tail, and drive it about till it grew very cross, and has not suffered any one to catch it since."
"How cruel!" said Mary, "to pull out its nice feathers; what a pity John is not good!"
While Mary was tying her shoes, William and Lewis called out from an adjoining room for her to look at a large flock of sheep which were being driven into a field close by. Mary was astonished to see how carefully the shepherd's dog guided them along, and brought back those which attempted to stray from the rest of the flock.
"How pretty and innocent they look! don't they, Kate?"
"Yes, Mary."
"But look, Kate, Mrs. Harrison is crossing the yard; we shall be too late to see the cows milked, and the calves suckled. Make haste and comb out your hair," said Mary, impatiently.
"We shall have plenty of time, dear Mary," replied Kate; "for, if you remember, Mrs. Harrison promised last night to call us when she was ready to show us the milking."
But Mary was so impatient to see the young calves, and to drink the new milk, that Kate led the way to the dairy, where the dairy-maid was busily employed in taking off the cream of the yesterday's milk. Kate was satisfying the curiosity of Mary respecting the various utensils, when Mrs. Harrison entered with William and Lewis, and they all proceeded to the cowhouse, where all the cows stood fastened up, waiting to be milked.
The children were all delighted when the calves were let out of the adjoining crib, and came capering to suck.
"Look, madam," said Mary, "how ill-tempered that spotted cow seems towards her calf."
"And now see, Mary, how she is kicking it! What a cruel creature to hurt such a nice little calf?" exclaimed Lewis springing forward as he spoke, and before Mrs. Harrison had time to prevent him, he bestowed on the cow two or three hearty blows with an old shackle, which unfortunately for the poor beast happened to lay near, saying, "Now learn to use your calf so ill." But the cow, not being used to such rough treatment, began kicking at a great rate. Lewis ran back to Mrs. Harrison in a fright.
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Published April 20 1823 by Harris & Son corner of St. Pauls.
"What ill-natured creatures cows are," said Lewis, regarding the object of his wrath with great indignation.
"And yet, my dear, the cow was not so much to blame as you thought her, for see how the calf has bitten her."
"So it has, I declare," said Lewis, "for the blood is running quite fast. I wish I had not been so hasty in striking her, poor thing."
The cow was now quiet, and began eating her hay again. Lewis went up to her, and stroked her face and sides, which she did not seem to take at all amiss.
"Now, dear Mrs. Harrison, will you give us a little new milk?" said Kate; "here is the wooden cup."
"With pleasure," said the good old lady, and she filled the cup and sent it round; they each drank a good draught of the milk, and thought it delicious.
When the cows were all milked, they proceeded to the poultry-yard, and Mrs. Harrison filled her lap with barley and dross wheat. At the sound of her well known voice, all sorts of poultry came tumbling over each other, in their eagerness to get their morning repast; turkeys and their chicks, guinea-fowls, and a peahen with her brood. This last was examined with great attention by Mary.
"They are not prettier than chickens; nay, I do not like them so well," said she.
"No, my dear," returned Mrs. Harrison; "it is many months before the young peachicks show any marks of their beauty; and then it is only the male that is handsome, for you see the peahen is rather an ordinary bird.
"But where are all the geese?" said William; "for I see only two, under coops, with some nice little yellow goslings."
"All the geese, and large turkies, and ducks and hogs, are driven to the barley fields after the crops are cleared; and there they find an excellent living, by picking up the grains that have been scattered."
The little party now returned to the house; and on entering the parlour, they kissed their mamma, and bid their father and uncle good morning. They then took their seats at a side-table very orderly, and ate their breakfasts of brown bread and milk, with great relish, for rising so early had given them a keen appetite.
When the cloth was removed, the children got round Mrs. Dormer, and began to tell her all they had seen. Mr. Richmond seemed greatly diverted by the adventure of Lewis with the cow; but advised him not to be so ready in administering justice among the cattle, lest he should get severely hurt for his pains.
"And now," he said, "in about an hour I will return and take you to the harvest-field. In the mean time, Kate shall go with you into the garden, and there you will see the rabbits, and the bees at work, only take care that you are not stung."
When they had sufficiently admired the rabbits, and looked at the bees till they were tired, they walked up and down the garden with Mrs. Dormer, till they saw their father and Mr. Richmond coming to them.
The whole party now proceeded across the lawn; the giddy little Lewis running on before till he reached a stile, which led into a field of barley-stubble. In this field there were a large flock of geese and some turkies, together with the peacock which Mary had admired in the morning. Lewis, who was a careless fellow, got among them, and was assaulted by the great turkey-cock, who ran after him, trying to bite him.
Lewis took to his heels, and in his haste to escape from the wrath of the turkey, he disturbed a flock of goslings, which with the old grey goose, were quietly sitting on the ground, sunning themselves among the stubble. The goose, seeing her brood in disorder, made such a lamentable outcry as brought the gander and several of his companions to her aid. Lewis was now in the greatest distress; he knew not which way to run. At last he boldly faced about, and taking up a handful of stones, flung them among the foremost of his enemies: the gander, enraged at this, flapped his wings, and gave Lewis several unmerciful pecks on the back of his leg.
It would be difficult to determine which made the most noise, the geese, or Lewis Dormer, for they screamed in concert, and were joined by the turkies; and though the peacock did not attempt to assist his neighbours, yet he added his note to increase the clamour.
The noise did not fail to reach the ears of the party in the meadow, who came quickly up to the barley-field. Mr. Richmond jumped over the stile, and drove the geese away with his stick, and they retired hissing and screaming to a little distance, while Lewis, with tears in his eyes, ran to his mother, and related the bad behaviour of the turkies and geese; declaring at the same time that he wished his uncle would not keep such ill-tempered creatures, for he hated them all.
"And yet, Lewis does not dislike roasted goose for dinner," said his father, "and I have seen him eat turkey at Christmas."
"Yes; but roasted geese never hurt me," said Lewis, rubbing his leg.
"Will you go back, and wait till your leg is better?" said Mrs. Dormer.
"Do, dear Lewis," said his cousin Kate; "and I will stay with you, and we can look at the pictures in the great parlour."
But Lewis, who did not relish the thoughts of returning to the house at all, thanked his cousin, and said his leg was getting better; indeed, he was in a few minutes the foremost in a race that William and Mary were engaged in, and scampered along as if nothing had happened.
They soon reached the harvest-field, where the men were busily employed in loading and carrying the wheat. Here every thing was alive and bustling: the men all looked cheerful and gay; some whistled or sung as they worked, and others talked of the pleasures to be enjoyed at the expected harvest-home supper.
"Here is our good master coming, my boys," cried the men on the loaded waggon to those below.
"Well, my lads," said Mr. Richmond, as he drew near, "when am I to prepare this harvest-supper for you?"
"We expect, Sir, to bring home the last load to-morrow afternoon," said the head man, respectfully taking off his hat to his master.
In that part of the field which was cleared the wives and children of the labourers were permitted to begin gleaning. The children soon ran off to observe the gleaners at work; and Mary and Kate began gathering up the ears of corn, and presenting to those who appeared feeble, and not able to work so hard as the others.
"God bless your pretty faces, my little dears," said a poor old woman, to whom Mary and Kate had given a large handful of corn.
Lewis, hearing the benedictions which were so liberally bestowed on the girls, and determining not to be out-done in generosity, began to present large handfuls of the corn, which he pulled out of the standing sheaves, to the women and children; when, just as Lewis began to fill the lap of a little girl, his uncle touched him on the shoulder. "Aha! my little man, if you are so bountiful I shall soon lose half the profits of my fields."
Lewis was quite in a fright, for he thought his uncle would be very angry: indeed he had never recollected that the wheat was none of his to give away; so he looked very penitent, and begged his uncle's pardon.
His uncle readily forgave him; but reminded him that when he next intended to be generous, at another person's expense, he must first ask permission.
Shortly after Mr. Richmond told them he was going to quit the field, as they should have dinner very soon.
The next day presented a scene of bustle and activity; every body was busy, and every countenance beamed with joy—it was Harvest Home—and there was not an individual on the farm but what partook of the general rejoicing that the master's corn was got safely in.
The great oaken table was placed in the middle of the hall, and benches and forms were brought to accommodate the guests. The hall itself was decked with green boughs, and a sheaf of wheat was suspended over the table. A barrel of ale was tapped, and a noble batch of harvest cakes baked; and the gardener brought in a great basket full of apples and plums, to entertain the good folks after supper.
Mary and Kate were highly interested in the preparations for the approaching festival. Mrs. Harrison, taking each of the little girls by the hand, went from place to place, giving orders to the maids, and seeing that her commands were executed; she then proceeded to make the plum-puddings and apple-pies, Mary and Kate seating themselves by her side and attentively looking on.
Presently the butcher knocked at the kitchen door, and Mary's admiration was excited on seeing the enormous pieces of beef and suet which he took out of his basket.
"Mrs. Harrison," she exclaimed, "how is all that meat to be eaten?"
"I warrant you, my dear, there will not be a vast deal too much."
And in a few minutes a great fire was made, the plum-puddings were put into the copper, and two great pieces of beef laid down to roast.
Towards the evening Mrs. Harrison put on her green lute-string gown (which was never worn but on great occasions), her very best cap, and worked-muslin apron, and the maid-servants decked themselves out in their holiday-gowns.
A shout of "The last load! huzzah! here comes the last load!" brought the children to the window. They saw the last load of wheat coming home, crowned with green boughs, and followed by men, women and children, some before and some behind, shouting joyfully as they advanced.
The little Dormers were in as high spirits as any of them; and William and Lewis rushed out to see it unloaded.
Mrs. Harrison hurried forwards with a large basket full of harvest cakes, just hot from the oven, followed by one of the maids with a stone pitcher of ale, to regale the harvest-men as soon as the waggon was unloaded. The men with their wives and children then went home to dress.
At length the supper hour arrived, and the pieces of beef which struck Mary with such astonishment were placed on the table, and two great plum-puddings at the head, and two at the foot, and a great apple-pie in the middle; a large piece of bread and a mug of ale were also placed to every plate. All had been arranged in the nicest order by Mrs. Harrison, who now took the head of the table.
Mr. Richmond walked through the hall with the children, to see that every thing was right, and that the people were comfortable. All the farming men were there, with their wives and children, who looked the pictures of health and joy: they were all standing round the table. When Mr. Richmond entered, the men bowed, the women curtsied, and the children followed the example of their parents.
"Is every thing ready, Mrs. Harrison?" asked Mr. Richmond.
"Yes, Sir; every thing," was the reply.
"Then say grace, and begin your supper," rejoined he.
Grace was accordingly said, and the company having taken their seats, Mrs. Harrison began carving. When Mr. Richmond had seen them all helped, he wished them a good appetite, and (that they might enjoy themselves without restraint) withdrew with his delighted little visitors.
Nor had the guests been forgotten; for when the children entered the dining parlour they found an excellent supper laid out for them.
And now the cloth being removed, Mr. Richmond once more entered the hall, and threw open the folding doors, that the children might see the people.
"Well, my good friends, how do you come on?" asked Mr. Richmond.
"God bless your honour, bravely," replied many voices at once, and again the head man rose and said grace, the cloth was taken away, and the fruit and pitchers of ale put on the table; a horn full of beer was then given to each. In a moment men, women and children burst into the chorus-song of "Here's a health to our good master, the founder of the feast." Certainly their voices were not very harmonious, and the words were rather homely, the song having been used by their fathers before them for many generations: but the children listened to it with great pleasure; they afterwards heard their own healths given, one by one; and Lewis seemed to think himself a person of great consequence when he was toasted in turn.
They staid up long after their usual time, and then retired to bed, greatly pleased at the scene they had beheld.
In a day or two after the jovial harvest-home Mr. and Mrs. Dormer took leave of their good brother and his family. The tears stood in Kate's eyes as she viewed the approach of the post-chaise which was to take her aunt away. "And now," she said, "I shall lose you. Oh, how often I shall think of your nice stories, and how happy I have been with my cousins, when I am at school at Guilford."
Mrs. Dormer stooped down and kissed away her tears, which now began to fall very fast. "Do not grieve, my dear Kate, for these happy times will soon come again, for your father has promised that you shall spend next Christmas with me, and I have other stories which you shall hear then; and I hope my little Kate will spend her Christmas holidays as pleasantly as she has the Midsummer." Kate wiped away her tears at hearing this joyful news, and summoned fortitude to bid her cousins good-bye, though it required all Mrs. Harrison's kindness to comfort her, when she could no longer see the carriage that bore them away.
The intervening months passed rapidly away; the long anticipated vacation arrived, and the little Dormers were once more gratified with the company and conversation of their cousin Kate. A thousand little occurrences were remembered and related with mutual satisfaction; and amidst all the festivities attendant on the season of Christmas, the intellectual enjoyment of hearing more tales was eagerly anticipated by the children. The very first evening after Kate's arrival, therefore, Mrs. Dormer was reminded of her kind promise: and as she was at all times willing to gratify her beloved family, she desired the young folks to form themselves into a comfortable circle round the fire whilst she related the story of