Coelebs In Search of a Wife

by Hannah More

I hung with inexpressible delight on every word Dr. Barlow uttered, and expressed my fears that such a prize was too much above my deserts to allow me to encourage very sanguine hopes. "You have my cordial wishes for your success," said he, "though I shall lament the day when you snatch so fair a flower from our fields, to transplant it into your northern gardens."

We had now reached the park-gate, where Sir John and Lady Belfield joined us. As it was very hot, Dr. Barlow proposed to conduct us a nearer way. He carried us through a small nursery of fruit-trees, which I had not before observed, though it was adjoining the ladies' flower-garden, from which it was separated and concealed by a row of tall trees. I expressed my surprise that the delicate Lucilla would allow so coarse an inclosure to be so near her ornamented ground. "You see she does all she can to shut it out," replied he. "I will tell you how it happens, for I can not vindicate the taste of my fair friend, without exposing a better quality in her. But if I betray her, you must not betray me.

"It is a rule when any servant who has lived seven years at the Grove, marries, provided they have conducted themselves well, and make a prudent choice, for Mr. Stanley to give them a piece of ground on the waste, to build a cottage; he also allows them to take stones from his quarry, and lime from his kiln; to this he adds a bit of ground for a garden. Mrs. Stanley presents some kitchen furniture, and gives a wedding dinner; and the rector refuses his fee for performing the ceremony."

"Caroline," said Sir John, "this is not the first time since we have been at the Grove that I have been struck with observing how many benefits naturally result to the poor, from the rich living on their own estates. Their dependants have a thousand petty local advantages, which cost almost nothing to the giver, which are yet valuable to the receiver, and of which the absent never think."

"You have heard," said Dr. Barlow, "that Miss Stanley, from her childhood, has been passionately fond of cultivating a garden. When she was hardly fourteen, she began to reflect that the delight she took in this employment was attended neither with pleasure nor profit to any one but herself, and she became jealous of a gratification which was so entirely selfish. She begged this piece of waste ground of her father, and stocked it with a number of fine young fruit-trees of the common sort, apples, pears, plums, and the smaller fruits. When there is a wedding among the older servants, or when any good girl out of her school marries, she presents their little empty garden with a dozen young apple-trees, and a few trees of the other sorts, never forgetting to embellish their little court with roses and honey-suckles. These last she transplants from the shrubbery, not to fill up the village garden, as it is called, with any thing that is of no positive use. She employs a poor lame man in the village a day in a week to look after this nursery, and by cutting and grafts a good stock is raised on a small space. It is done at her own expense, Mr. Stanley making this a condition when he gave her the ground; 'otherwise,' said he, 'trifling as it is, it would be my charity and not hers, and she would get thanked for a kindness which would cost her nothing.' The warm-hearted little Ph[oe]be cooperates in this, and all her sister's labors of love.

"Some such union of charity with every personal indulgence, she generally imposes on herself; and from this association she has acquired another virtue, for she tells me, smiling, she is sometimes obliged to content herself with practicing frugality instead of charity. When she finds she can not afford both her own gratification, and the charitable act which she wanted to associate with it, and is therefore compelled to give up the charity, she compels herself to give up the indulgence also. By this self-denial she gets a little money in hand for the next demand, and thus is enabled to afford both next time."

As he finished speaking, we spied the lame gardener pruning and clearing the trees. "Well, James," said the Doctor, "how does your nursery thrive?" "Why, sir," said the poor man, "we are rather thin of stout trees at present. You know we had three weddings at Christmas, which took thirty-six of my best apple-trees at a blow, besides half a dozen tall pear-trees, and as many plums. But we shall soon fetch it up, for Miss Lucilla makes me plant two for every one that is removed, so that we are always provided for a wedding, come when it will."

I now recollected that I had been pleased with observing so many young orchards and flourishing cottage gardens in the village: little did I suspect the fair hand which could thus in a few years diffuse an air of smiling comfort around these humble habitations, and embellish poverty itself. She makes, they told me, her periodical visits of inspection to see that neatness and order do not degenerate.

Not to appear too eager, I asked the poor man some questions about his health, which seemed infirm. "I am but weak, sir," said he, "for matter of that, but I should have been dead long ago but for the Squire's family. He gives me the run of his kitchen, and Miss Lucilla allows me half-a-crown a week for one day's work and any odd hour I can spare; but she don't let me earn it, for she is always watching for fear it should be too hot, or too cold, or too wet for me; and she brings me my dose of bark herself into this tool-house, that she may be sure I take it; for she says, servants and poor people like to have medicines provided for them, but don't care to take them. Then she watches that I don't throw my coat on the wet grass, which she says, gives laboring men so much rheumatism; and she made me this nice flannel waistcoat, sir, with her own hands. At Christmas they give me a new suit from top to toe, so that I want for nothing but a more thankful heart, for I never can be grateful enough to God and my benefactors."

I asked some further questions, only to have the pleasure of hearing him talk longer about Lucilla. "But, sir," said he, interrupting me, "I hear bad news, very bad news. Pray, your honor, forgive me." "What do you mean, James?" said I, seeing his eyes fill. "Why, sir, all the servants at the Grove will have it that you are come to carry off Miss Lucilla, God bless her whenever she goes. Your Mr. Edwards, sir, says you are one of the best of gentlemen, but indeed, indeed, I don't know who can deserve her. She will carry a blessing wherever she goes." The honest fellow put up the sleeve of his coat to brush away his tears, nor was I ashamed of those with which his honest affection filled my own eyes. While we were talking, a poor little girl, who I knew, by her neat uniform, belonged to Miss Stanley's school, passed us with a little basket in her hand. James called to her, "Make haste, Rachel, you are after your time."