“My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument. She observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were freethinkers, and made very good husbands. And she knew some sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their spouses. ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may be able to do? The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject, and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’ ‘Why, my dear, what controversy can she have read?’ cried I. ‘It does not occur to me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly overrate her merit.’ ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not. I have read a great deal of controversy. I have the disputes between Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy in ‘Religious Courtship.’’ ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”
And the master added, “you shall have a piece on’t, mister, when it be enough.” I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage could be found. At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many times:—
“‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future, busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost.’ ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in general?’ ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well, and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and brewing tubs for nothing.’ ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he will sing us ‘Death and the Lady’ to raise our spirits into the bargain.’ ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I think he goes through it very prettily.’ ‘Does he so?’ cried I, ‘then let’s have it. Where is little Dick? Let him up with it boldly.’ ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I’ll sing them for you, papa. Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’ ‘The elegy, child, by all means,’ said I. ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at all sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the boy a little.”
This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”
THE ELEGY, ETC.
Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song,
And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe,
The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes;
And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man;
Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye,
And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die;
But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied,
The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.
The master did not attempt to enlighten me. At the close of the elegy, he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?” But no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.
My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was much attached. They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper. She was a useful creature, having carried me many miles. I could spend many half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in charge liked my company, so that the time passed away. I had often little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes and roads. This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when labourers made full time.
It would have been a curious sight in our day, as then, to see the old couple mounted upon Depper’s back, when they were going out to see friends. A light cart was a scarce article in those days with small occupiers (my neighbours had only a tumbril as a carriage); an appliance called a pillion was fastened upon the rump of the horse, and secured to the saddle, the greatest difficulty being to mount and dismount; but that difficulty was overcome.
I have not yet done with my old friend Benjamin; perhaps he did not trouble about my being absent for a week or two, if I did not return a bigger dunce. He usually had some of that class to try his patience. He appointed me many jobs, more to my mind than studying in the school. The town clock required to be wound up, the dial of which was at an elevation of about fifty feet, adorning the south side of the old tower, with its four neat pinnacles. I was appointed often to wind up the weights of that clock: the larger weight requiring the power of two boys, with a crank as large as a grindstone. Then, again, at funerals, the master would set me to toll the church bell, the rope being so fixed upon its tongue that an easy jerk would cause it to strike against the bell’s side, instructions being given that when the procession arrived, and at a signal from the master, ten strokes were to be given in quick succession, and then immediately to cease. Then, again, after the funeral service was over, the grave had to be filled in by willing hands, which was after a time accomplished, the implements being afterwards stowed away, and thus ended the school service of another day.
Four schoolboys were usually selected to convey the funeral bier to the late residence of the deceased, sometimes half-a-mile or more distant. Regardless of the solemnity of the occasion, we enjoyed the outing, and were not in a very great hurry to return to our studies; and perhaps the master did not trouble that we should, for I do not remember to have heard him express much sorrow or inconvenience respecting the absentees.