CHAPTER XXI.
Harrow—Coventry—Warwickshire.
I went into the country on Ascension Day to keep the feast, at an interesting place in the neighbourhood of Harrow. As I was rushing at the last minute to gain a seat in the railway train, I saw a hand beckoning me from one of the carriages, and so took my seat beside the Bishop of Oxford. He was going to spend the day at the same place, a fact of which I had not the least idea beforehand, but which, of course, greatly heightened my anticipations of pleasure, on making the discovery. Arrived, the Bishop was received by the Rev. Mr. ——, and I was kindly invited to accompany him to breakfast, after a brief survey of the attractions of the place. First, we went with our reverend host to see a sort of training school, in which he was giving some young men of limited means all the substantial parts of a University education. We went into their chapel, and joined in the devotions with which they began their day. We were then conducted through the establishment connected with which was a printing press, worked by the pupils, and a chemical laboratory, in which they were producing stained glass for the chapel. In the garden I saw a novelty in the horticultural art, which struck me as not unworthy of imitation. A small piece of ground had been ingeniously shaped into a miniature Switzerland. Here, for example, was the Righi, with a corresponding depression for the Lake of the Four Cantons. A bucket of water poured into such a depression, makes the little scene into an artificial reality, serving to convey a geographical idea much more forcibly than any map could possibly do. From this college we went to an “Agricultural School,” where some plain farmer’s boys, in their working attire, were gathered to prayers before engaging in the labour of the day. A certain amount of education is furnished to these lads, in return for their toil, and they pay some fees beside; the plan proposing to elevate this class of the peasantry, especially in morals and religious knowledge. Thence, we went to the parish-schools which were also opened by prayer; and then the children were catechised, in the presence of the Bishop. After this we adjourned to breakfast, and then went to the Church; a very plain, but substantial and architectural one, lately substituted for its dilapidated predecessor. The Bishop preached, entirely extemporaneously, having been pressed into the service against his intentions. As he eloquently exhorted us to follow our ascended Lord, I could not but think how entirely different from the ordinary American notion of an English Bishop, in labors and in spirit, was this estimable prelate. The Holy Communion followed, and there was a large number of devout partakers, representing all classes of society. I was glad to see, for example, some plain farmers, in their frocks, and two of the railway-guards, in their liveries.
While walking through the lanes, with the Bishop and this laborious pastor, a little boy ran up to us with oak-leaves, and a branch containing oak-apples. It was the 29th of May; and the Bishop playfully asked the lad why he carried them. “To remember King Charles,” said the little fellow—as he further enforced the sale of these memorials of the Restoration.
During the residue of the day, I shared the labours of the pastor, as he went about the parish, visiting here a sick person, and there a poor one; and, towards evening, returning to the grounds of the training school, I joined in a game of cricket, which the young men were playing in high glee. Chasing the ball as it bounded over the field, or hid itself in the hedge; scratching my hands with nettles, and joining in the shouts of frolic, with these happy youths; and finally sitting at my leisure to watch the beautiful evening sky, against which stood out the graceful spire and foliage of Harrow-on-the-Hill, while the neighbouring bells of Stanmore pealed a sunset song, I could not but murmur to myself, with Gray—
“I feel the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,
As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And, redolent of joy and youth,