ILLUSTRATION OF CHARACTER
His economy was still more wonderful than his industry, and I have been told by an eye-witness of a somewhat curious instance of it. He greatly enjoyed a game at whist on the winter evenings, and in old age when his sight was dim, he had, when playing, a mould candle lighted and placed upon a shelf behind him; but it sometimes happened, when more than four players were present, that the old Parson had to “sit out” in his turn, and when that was the case, he always carefully extinguished his mould candle and allowed the rest of the party to find out their trumps as they best could by the light of the rush dipped in fat, re-lighting his mould so soon as he cut in again.
He was offered, and it would appear, was, at first, inclined to accept, the adjoining benefice of Ulpha to hold in conjunction with that of Seathwaite, for he writes to the Bishop, an unexpected difficulty having arisen—“If he,” the person who started the difficulty, “had suggested any such objection before, I should utterly have declined any attempt to the curacy of Ulpha: indeed I was always apprehensive it might be disagreeable to my auditory at Seathwaite, as they have always been accustomed to double duty, and the inhabitants of Ulpha despair of being able to support a schoolmaster who is not curate there also;” and again he says that the annexation would cause a general discontent in both places, and Mr Walker had more sense than to brave such discontent.
His hospitality likewise has been extensively dilated upon, and, as I think, unnecessarily. Had he been inhospitable, he would have been unlike his neighbours, for hospitality is even yet a prominent characteristic of the district; and, moreover, I once took the liberty of inquiring into the extent and nature of his hospitality at an old lady who well remembers him, when I found that she was inclined to give the credit of liberal hospitality to his wife rather than to Mr Walker, stating that Mrs Walker would occasionally bestow some homely dainty upon neighbour children, requesting them to conceal it from “t’ maister.”
HOSPITALITY AND HOSTELRY.
He supplied messes of broth on Sundays to such of his hearers as came from a distance, and Mr Wordsworth mentions this as involving an act of generous self-denial, because to make the requisite supply of Sunday broth, it would be necessary to boil the whole week’s meat on that day, reducing the family to the necessity of eating nothing but cold meat until the next supply of broth was required. This appearance of self-denial disappears, when we come to know that it is, even yet, a rule in the domestic economy of old Seathwaite families to boil sufficient meat to serve several days’ dinners in every Sunday's broth; and, as has been elsewhere said, though the dried mutton, oat-bread, fresh butter, and sweet milk so liberally offered to callers by my hospitable though homely friends in Seathwaite are all more than excellent, yet is their broth as little tempting a mess as it has been my fortune to encounter, the “singit sheep’s heid broth” of a Duddingston public, or the “a la mode soup” of a St. Giles's eating-house not excepted.
Mr Walker’s biographers and panegyrists omit altogether to mention a very important means he adopted to help to “bring grist to the mill,” and that was keeping an ale-house, not a jerry-shop, mind, for in “Wonderful Walker's” time, his Parsonage was an ordinary country ale-house, in which the ordinary customs of country ale-houses were regularly observed. For instance, at certain periods, he held “auld wife hakes,” or “merry nights,” and such like jollifications, where, as Anderson sings—
“The bettermer sort sat snug i’ the parlour;
I’ t’ pantry the sweathearters cuttered sae soft;
The dancers they kicked up a stour i’ the kitchen;